The Priest of Mu used the power of their ethereal minds to cause the dais I was on to hover towards the center of the main hall within the Great Pyramid of Lemuria. The High Priest himself did not walk; he glided across the polished alabaster floor, his feet never truly touching the ground as the four clerics that assisted him bore my moving altar toward the heart of the Well.
As I pretended to writhe upon the dais I could feel the air begin to ripple with the intensity of the Dark Sun – the atmosphere become a shimmering, pressurized medium of “Living Light” that vibrated against my fake skin with the intensity of a thousand humming hives.
Before us hung the Aperture of Grace —a swirling vortex of white and blue light that seemed to pull at the stitches of my stolen shroud. It was a circular void in the fabric of the room, roughly the size of Mylar and ringed by thirteen rotating bands of Living Sapphire.
“Approach, Scribe,” the High Priest commanded, his voice trembling with the strain of the failing Alignment. “The Relic starves. Reach into the Grace. Offer the Anchor you have brought us, and let the Great Architect see the truth of your spirit.”
I sifted through the minds of the many clerics that sat upon the inverted tiers of the ziggurat in order to better understand what I saw before me. The Aperture wasn’t a door or window, but more of a spiritual bottleneck. Somehow these mortals had created a singular physical and metaphysical point where what they believed was the “Heavy World” (the realm of matter and chaos) was allowed to touch what they considered to be the “High World” (the realm of pure harmonic light). I gathered that they held The Aperture as a sort of divine lens through which the energy of the Mylar world was ‘filtered’ before it was then ‘offered’ to the heart of the Great Pyramid.
[I secretly laughed at the absurdity of it all – here were the Mylars – the most advanced mortal civilization that ever walked up on the face of the flat earth, and yet even then – for all their incredible technology that no other races or species had ever come close to replicating – yes even these so called Mu Men had made themselves prisoners of ‘religion.’ I couldn’t help but wonder how much farther the Mylars could have advanced if they’d not subjugated themselves to holy mumbo jumbo. Could they have reached into the realm of the divine and become like The Gods Themselves? Sadly, it was their very religion that I knew would keep them back- for whenever mortals create ‘rules’ to define and structure their religion, they only end up pushing themselves farther away from the divine realm. But as this mortal flaw was a tale as old as time, I wasn’t surprised that this cancer controlled the ‘great’ Mylars as well].
As for the Aperture’s purpose, the cleric’s mind helped me to understand that the frequency with which the sapphire bands hummed was designed to strip away the physical form of any object passed through them – leaving only the spirit behind. To the Mylar Priests this was a kind a “trial of purity” – anything that passed through the Aperture must be in perfect alignment with the Great Song. If an object (or a soul) carried too much “Friction” (sin, hate, or heavy matter), the Aperture would not allow it to pass and that evil friction would cause the object to incinerate in a flash of “Corrective Fire” – in essence then it was a soul-shredder for anyone unworthy of the Mylar’s World.
Well this is going to be interesting. I chuckled inside, unconcerned.
I’ll admit I was probably being a bit flippant about what I was going to face when I approached the Aperture. One could argue that my own essence was built on the “Heavy” foundations of the old world – after all I created that world with Lucifer. I surmised that the priests wanted me to pass my hand through the Aperture in what amounted to someone reaching into a vat of liquid nitrogen—the “Grace” would attempt to freeze, then shatter any discordant darkness. The Mu Men were confident that nobody would hide their true nature while their arm was inside the Aperture – for the sapphire rings would hum with the “True Note” of their soul – potentially screaming to every Priest in the room that a demon was standing among them.
It’s an interesting plan. I smiled humbly as I approached the High Priest and the Aperture. But I have a different one.
I cared little for what the Mylars believed The Aperture could or could not do from a spiritual sense. The only thing that mattered to me about the portal was that it was the opening to the Cage of Living Sunbeams – where Dagaal was imprisoned. The priests wanted my made up character Sub-Scribe Elu to “integrate” the relic I carried (i.e.e the Shard of Varysha) to Dagaal – to accomplish that they intended for me to reach my hand through their vortex of pure grace and place the Shard near the hilt of the Bone Dagger. No impure mortal could have survived this metaphysical test – but what they didn’t realize yet was that I was no mere mortal.
I knew that if I could survive the test (which I undoutedly would), then the moment he touched Dagaal, the Aperture would become MY weapon. And I planned to “choke” the Aperture with the divine magic inside both the Bone Dagger and Varysha’s Shard – thus turning the Mylar’s lens of grace into a fountain of poison with which I might destroy Lemuria.
At least that was what I hoped would happen – I wasn’t 100% sure. But I knew enough that now that I was this close to Dagaal, I was going to get The Bone Dagger or die trying!
The Queen’s Gambit
Dagaal. To the Mylars it wasn’t a weapon, it was a “Void-Relic” – a kind sacred battery of infinite density.
With their world’s ‘alignment’ off kilter, they were using my bone’s power to restore their precious spiritual energy. In essence they were “bleeding” my essence using ritual chanting to strip away the dark majesty of Dagaal and refine it into the pale, sterile light that fueled their own world. I stared up at the Dagger – the bone was no longer the obsidian black of the void; it was a dull, sickly grey.
It looks tired. I was horrified at the sight. It looks ashamed.
“The Scribe shall offer the Anchor,” the High Priest proclaimed, his voice echoing with the authority of a race of creatures that had long dominated the flat earth. “Let the Grace judge the weight of his heart. If he is aligned, the Well shall be replenished. If he is discordant, the Light shall erase the error.”
I felt a surge of ancient, god-like fury—a heat so intense it threatened to scorch the scavenged silver shroud I wore. They were treating a piece of the Primordial Darkness as if it were a common candle to keep their shadows at bay!
I was rolled closer to the edge of the vortex – the heat of the Aperture began to singe the silver silk of my shroud, turning it into a fine, metallic ash. I watched as the Mylar “Bleed-Priests” moved around the cage, using tuning forks made of sapphire to draw out thin, grey threads of energy from the bone. Dagaal was being “milked” like a trapped animal, its ancient, heavy power being diluted to fuel the Mylar’s petty “perfection.” If felt like a physical violation of my own divine nature.
How did this happen? I wondered. How did the Mylars ever get their hands on this piece of…ME?
My breath hitched. Maybe this isn’t about just Mylar energy? Maybe behind this grand play there is the signature of a Queen?
The question hammered against my ribs. The Dagaal was Lucifer’s most prized relic, a symbol of his dominion over my lineage – over me. For eons it had been guarded by legionaries of lllusian Lumenarcs. But then there was that fateful visit when Lucifer had first tormented me with the knowledge that Dagaal was mysteriously upon TerrVerde – where it was waiting to destroy me if I didn’t accomplish my goal – to release Lucifer from the prison of the hell world that he and Zebub had created. Yet Lucifer had always been coy about how Dagaal was transported to the Middle Plane – even suggesting that it had been stolen.
But how did Dagaal end up here? In Lemuria? I knew the Mylars were too arrogant to be thieves. They wouldn’t have dared to raid Illusia. Yet I also knew the Bone Dagger did not simply “end up” in a floating pyramid at the edge of the world by accident. I feverishly sifted through the minds of the Mylar clerics inside the Pyramid – going about it so recklessly that the energy of the room darkened.
“We must act quickly.” The High Priest misinterpreted the spiritual change I was causing. “Bring Elu closer. Let us begin the rite.”
A horrifying realization began to dawn on me. Dagaal had been given to them!
“She did this,” I nearly hissed through gritted teeth, pretending to be in agony as the priests positioned me before The Aperture.
Lilith had planted this seed. I surmised from the Mylars’ minds and filled in the gaps in their knowledge with my own speculations. Perhaps Lilith had used the Mylars as a celestial vault to keep my rib safe until the moment I was desperate enough to come for it? I scanned the high, shadowed balconies of the Well one more time. Was she there, draped in her silks of shadow, watching her “favorite toy” reach into the fire? Was this whole civilization—the Spires, the Great Alignment, the millions of singing souls—merely the wrapping paper for a gift she was forcing me to open?
My mind continued to build the fantasy – concluding that Lilith was behind the mystery of Dagaal’s ‘escape’ from Illusia. She knew that as long as the Dagger remained in the pits of Hell, it was a static trophy for Lucifer. But Lilith was cunning – she wanted it to be the bait. Perhaps she made a pact with the Mylar High Archons centuries ago? Perhaps she offered them the “Void-Relic” to stabilize their crumbling Ice Wall? Perhaps she showed her children how to create their spiritual siphon to “cleanse” Dagger of my spiritual imprint? But why?
And then it hit me. Lilith is making a play for Lucifer’s throne!
I burst out laughing at the idea.
“Elu’s mind is failing.” The helper clerics around me warned.
That was far from the truth, but I let the Mylar priests believe it just the same as I continued unraveling the threads of Lilith’s gambit. So this is all part of the game of the gods? That’s when I realized – she wants me to have Dagaal. She’s hoping I will use it to shatter the Mylar World – she’s even willing to sacrifice her own children to get what she wants! She didn’t build a cage to keep me in – she’s handing me a match to burn down her house! She believes that if I destroy the Land of Mu then the chaos of Lemuria’s fall will be loud enough to mask her own move against Lucifer’s throne.
Oh, Lilith you stupid little, bitch – you have no idea what you have done. I rejoiced as I looked into the spinning sapphire rings above me. My hand, hidden beneath the silver silk, was already beginning to smoke. I could feel the Dagaal on the other side of that hole in reality—my rib, my weapon, my curse—waiting for the touch of the hand that first held it. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on my prize – not to become Lilith’s pawn – but to destroy her and her people once and for all!
The Saving Grace
“Let the Great Architect see you, Elu.” The High Priest commanded me. “Reach into the void with the relic…now!”
Happily I did as they told me and reached upwards with The Shard. The moment my fingers touched the rim of the Aperture, the “Grace” reacted. It wasn’t a burn of fire, but a burn of Order. The Mylar energy detected the “Heavy” essence of my soul—the millennia of blood, the necrotic soot of Illusia, and the jagged edges of my pride—and it began to try “correct” me. [I say ‘try’ because it never had a chance to change my divine nature, but naturally the Mu Men didn’t know that].
My hand began to smoke, a thick, violet-black vapor rising from my skin as the light attempted to vibrate my atoms into a more “pleasing” frequency. The pain would have been absolute for a mortal – to me it was rather exhilarating.
“Reach… deeper…” the High Priest urged, his eyes glowing with a fanatic’s hunger. He saw my agony not as torture, but as the “Exaltation of the Spirit.”
I played along with the rise – grinding my teeth until I heard them crack. I let out a fantastic scream for extra effect – sending the clerics around the room in to a panic. Meanwhile I reached into the guttering furnace of my own Hellfire, pulling a thin veil of shadow around my bones to insulate them against the blinding purity of the vortex.
The sapphire rings of the Aperture screamed, a high-frequency lament that tore at my consciousness. My arm was now buried up to the elbow in that vortex of “Grace,” and the agony was a cold, white static. Yet as the light attempted flayed my spirit, a deeper, darker chill took hold.
i looked through the swirling blue energy toward the Dagaal. The bone was grey, yes, but as my fingers crept closer, I noticed a faint, pulsing vein of Illusian Crimson deep within the marrow of the hilt. hesitated, my scorched fingers inches from the corkscrew blade. If I touched it, I knew I would be completing Lilith’s ritual. I hesitated. I’m playing the part she has scripted for me. Is this really the right move?
For a god who prides himself on being the architect of his own destiny, the idea of being a puppet in Lilith’s play was more agonizing than the Harmonic Cleansing. But the Dagaal – its fading! I could feel the Mylar siphons drawing the last of the primordial marrow from my long lost bone. If I pulled back now out of pride, the bone would shatter, and the only piece of my true skeleton left in the universe would be lost forever
“The Scribe wavers!” the High Priest shouted, his voice cracking with a sudden, sharp fear. “The Aperture is rejecting him! Push through, Elu! If the Anchor is not set, the sun falls!”
I looked at the High Priest—a pathetic, translucent creature who thought he was presiding over a miracle. He had no idea he was standing in the middle of a divine quarrel between two ancient monsters.
I pushed my arm deeper through the Aperture, the sapphire rings spinning faster and faster, their pitch rising to a deafening, glass-shattering wail. My hand emerged on the other side of the Aperture, inside the Cage of Sunbeams!
My arm looked like a charred branch, the silver shroud burned away to reveal the blackened, skeletal truth of my limb. But I didn’t care. Because there, inches from my fingertips, was Dagaal. The bone-rib was suspended in the golden lattice, pulsing with a weak, rhythmic grey light. It was starving, gasping for the darkness that gave it life.
I pushed my hand the final few inches, plunging my fist into the very center of the golden lattice. The transition was instantaneous. The screaming of the sapphire rings vanished, replaced by a silence so absolute it felt like being buried in the vacuum of deep space.
There was a collective “Gasp!” from the clerics around the room.
As my fingers brushed the hilt of Daggal —the gnarled, familiar bone that had once been a part of my own chest— a circuit was completed that had been broken for eons. My vision flooded with the memories stored in the marrow—not just my own torture, but the untold thousands of years the dagger had spent in the dark, and then I saw the secret visions of Lilith whispering to Mylar ambassadors, watching her trade Lucifer’s secrets for the “purity” of Lemurian light. The truth was revealed – Lilith had used Dagaal to sell her own people as pawns while she built her “Shadow-Alignment” in Illusia in an attempt to take the throne for herself.
“Oh, Lilith,” I thought, a cold, predatory joy replacing my fear. “You didn’t give me a gift. You gave me your head on a platter. Lucifer might forgive a thief, but he never forgives a traitor.”
The more I possessed Dagaal, the more a shockwave of pummeled the Mu Men. That’s when Dagaal didn’t just vibrate; it roared! A jagged streak of obsidian lightning arced from the blade to my fingertips, connecting the master to the weapon.
Meanwhile, the “sucking” sensation of the Mylar siphons reversed in a heartbeat. Instead of the Pyramid bleeding the Dagger, the Dagger began to bleed the Pyramid.
The Shattering of the Song
I didn’t just pull the dagger out; I ignited it. I took the Shard of Varysha—the “Anchor” the Priests so desperately wanted—and I made sure to secure that relic as well. The reaction of taking Dagaal out from the cage was a catastrophic breach of celestial physics to the Mylar’s world and the necrotic, jagged energy of the Shard only made it worse. Dagaal, once grey and dying, now flared into a blinding, obsidian-violet fire.
The Aperture of Grace didn’t just reject the energy; it turned inside out.
“What is this?” the High Priest cried, his multi-tonal voice cracking as the white-gold floor beneath him began to darken. “The frequency… it is inverted! The Anchor is not a stabilizer—it is a parasite! Elu’s relic is not aligning! It’s… it’s consuming!”
The white-gold rings of the Siphon began to spin so fast they became a blur of lethal metal, eventually tearing free from their moorings and scything through the ranks of chanting monks.
Sub-Scribe Elu died in that moment as I stood up from the dais, my silver shroud falling away in scorched tatters to reveal my true, towering skeletal form. I was a pillar of shadow in their house of light, my green eyes burning with a cold, violet hunger.
“Your ‘Grace’ is a lie,” I rasped, my voice drowning out the choir of monks. “And your ‘Alignment’ is a cage. I have come to take back what was stolen, and I have brought the Silence with me.”
I gripped the hilt of the Dagaal and struck at the Aperature. The sapphire rings of exploded. The “Living Sunbeams” of the cage snapped like violin strings, the golden energy lashing out and incinerating the nearest Priests. I rejoiced in their wailing, taking pleasure in watching those whips of solar flares, incinerating the alabaster pillars and turning the “Liquid Light” incense into a toxic, black smoke.
Dagaal now back to its true, terrifying obsidian black, it began drinking in the light of the Pyramid and turning it into a void.
“The song is over,” I roared, my voice a bass note that shattered every sapphire in the room.
The central conduit of the Pyramid—the Great Siphon—imploded. The upward-flowing river of mercury outside the walls suddenly reversed, the weight of the metal crashing back down onto the Cities of Chime with the force of a hammer.
The “Always-Day” of Lemuria flickered once, twice, and then vanished.
Total, absolute darkness swallowed the Well of Siphons. The only light remaining was the cold, violet hum of the Dagaal in my hand. Around me, the few remaining Mylars who were alive—creatures who had forgotten the very concept of night—began to scream in a high, terrified pitch that no longer had any harmony.
I stood in the wreckage, feeling the weight of the Dagger.
“Enjoy the dark, little birds,” I whispered, stepping over the corpse of a High Priest. “I have an adulterous Queen to betray and a universe to conquer!”
And that’s the story of how I finally acquired Dagaal!
The Apocrypha of Azazel 