The pressure softened just enough for the driver to fixate his head upwards. At the same time, Darian's eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the ground.
Only Emory and the carriage driver remained conscious.
The driver looked sickened as if he had been brutally stabbed in the stomach and head. He rubbed the blood that dripped on his face; his vision blurred red. As he darted his blood-stained head in all directions, trying to figure out where the sound had come from, he stammered, "W-W-What is that?!"
The voice answered. Calm, yet omnipotent.
"You have called for me, so I have answered. Speak, human." The driver had given up on trying to locate the origin of the voice. It was indeed everywhere, but also nowhere.
Instead, he trembled and submitted himself, cowering in pure fear. A shrill cry had erupted from his voice. He grabbed his ears, which were throbbing and stained with blood. The eardrums deep inside his canal had ruptured. He wouldn't survive long hearing this mysterious, all-powerful voice.
Gathering his words, he replied, frantic. "P-Powers..." He gasped, "Yes! Powers! I want them; I need them." He was now talking to the foreign voice as if it were Darian and Emory, disregarding his submission moments ago. "Let me bathe in the glory of wealth, the glory of influence, the glory of power! Yes!"
The plea was so selfish and self-centered, it was almost like the driver had shifted consciousnesses.
An eerie pause encapsulated the air before the voice returned, thunderous and compressing. "I see. Are you willing to become my devout worshipper?"
The words left him before he parted his lips, "Yes!" The driver exclaimed, "I will do anything in order to get powers. Anything!" He clasped his hands and fell on his knees.
"Behedet."
The skies cracked, sonic waves erupting from all corners of the area. The ground trembled vigorously as the air contorted and convulsed.
A purple fog descended, shrouding the area in a dark, lifeless shadow. The fabric of the sky tore as a portal opened right in front of the driver, who stood watching in awe.
Blood leaked continuously from his ears, nose, and mouth. But despite that, he remained transfixed at the void in the sky. The blurry red vision he was left with allowed him to see fragments of purple glass shatter.
Step. Step. Step.
Commanding footsteps echoed throughout the vicinity. Emory, who lay a couple of meters away from the driver, remained sucking on the fish in his hand, unaware.
Step. Step. Step.
A single man emerged from the spiraling portal.
He was dressed in a black robe with a white streak diagonally down the center, a bow and arrow strapped to his back. His features were uncanny yet perfect. Pale skin, black eyes that erased light and life, and hair that perfectly fell on his head, covering his forehead in messy waves. His robe was sleeveless, revealing his unnatural, defined muscles.
His unblemished lips parted. "Kneel."
Thunder cracked violently in the distance, startling the carriage driver. "You have earned the immense privilege of speaking to His Liege. Kneel, human."
Like clockwork, the driver immediately dropped his forehead on the rough ground, the impact drawing blood that stained the ground beneath him. The robed figure, Behedet, nodded before he strode past him and toward the baby, Emory.
Stopping in front of the silent baby, he gazed for a minute. Then, with a voice riddled with unmistakable presence, he declared:
"His Liege, the Tyrant Lucius, has granted both humans present permission to recite Chronicle of the Eclipsed Veil."
Flicking his pale, thick wrist, wisps of black spiraled in front of him. They began to form into a paragraph that stood static in front of them.
Then, he shifted his gaze toward the driver once more. Behedet extended his hand; black coils of dark magic slithered up his arm like serpents squeezing their prey. Soon after, they shot toward the driver's chest, not harming him but entering his cavity calmly.
Exhaling, Behedet calmed himself for a minute as he closed his eyes. Once he finished, he spoke in a rather monotonous tone, "Moik Drav. Carriage driver for twenty-three years in Aglana. He was divorced by his wife, who took his only son, Lex."
He eyed the driver with an uncompassionate look, "A lowly human who pretends to be meek but instead harbors major resentment and greed."
He continued, "---------------------------------------------------" His next words were contorted and incomprehensible to the average person.
After he was done, he retracted the coils and dispelled them. He faced the ink that remained floating above them. Placing his right hand directly under his heart, Behedet spoke, "By the power vested in me, Behedet, Fourth Mourner to His Liege, Lucius, I grant Moik Drav the ability to recite Chronicle of the Eclipsed Veil."
He slowly raised just his hand. As he did, Moik's body was lifted into the air while his eyes began glowing a faint grey hue. Purple and black dots of energy spun widely around him.
"Recite," The command was issued by Behedet, who was focused.
Moik spoke lifelessly as if the words were implanted inside him: "Anguish. I shall succumb to the anguish that has been woven by the Phantom's ethereal hand. I raise my continuous plea to 'Them,' and in the shadows of cruelty, I seek both power and curse. I vow to reclaim all Authority that has been stolen by the Descendants of that wretched being. My life, will, and mind have all been sacrificed to the Phantom, and I await the day I can return the benevolence bestowed and granted to my being."
Moik's lifeless body dropped to the ground, twitching and convulsing uncontrollably. He heaved and coughed profusely. He had no control over his body, no. It was manipulated and used. Moik Drav had been a puppet.
"Obey me," the voice from earlier, belonging to the Phantom, Lucius, emerged. "And you shall reap the fruits of your sacrifice."
Although it was not directed at him, Behedet collapsed, trembling in fear. "My Liege..." He clasped his hands and prostrated on one knee.
Moik finally awakened; his body flickered between visibility. He stared at his hands, his feet, and his body with wide eyes.
Then, he opened his mouth. But not a sound escaped. Speechless. Then… he went silent. Listening. Nodding. Finally, with an almost mute tone, he spoke.
To something no one else could hear.