"Pathetic" exclaimed Necrucifer.

"The Goddess of Dark Magic and mother of many Gods weeping like a elven female. Perhaps you are getting soft. Whatever the reason, I do not like this. It is a sign of weakness."

Drakkara's tears turned into a snarl almost instantly.

"Do you not care that our son is alone on a world where he can be... killed by mere mortals?" snarled Drakkara.

"Do you not care that the very unappreciative mortals that we helped create would have your son killed in an act of defiance and vengeance? Or have you forgotten that the High God has cursed us while on Algoron? We can DIE there and no son of mine will be taken by mortals!!!"

"You're attempting to anger me, Lover, just as you do when you attempt to seduce the mortals into worshiping you instead of me. While you may be good at manipulating the mortals, remember that I am the master of all things dark, and that includes you, my dear. I see right through you."

Drakkara was suddenly angered and while it was apparent on her expression, she said nothing. Probably a wise move.

Necrucifer stood boisterous with a sly smirk. He knew that Drakkara would like nothing more than to slap it off of his face. He enjoyed the moment very much. And then... he spoke.

"I will create a hoard of demons. The mortals of all of our children can quest for the right to serve as one. When that has been decided, they will find Malachive and protect him. Perhaps his power will flourish enough to once and for all rule that world. Where you see disaster, I see opportunity. Malachive will live, and he will be our savior of destroying the good."

Darkness overcame Necrucifer and in an instant, he was gone. Drakkara stood alone contemplating Necrucifer's words. She smiled, and returned to her moon.

"His destiny is to rule that world and prepare it for my commands yet he works with his hands as a carpenter," moaned Necrucifer. His voice echoed through the darkness followed by a rumbling shake.

Pale, sleek hands massaged his form. "Is the world not going as you have planned, my love?" Drakkara smiled with sarcasm.

Necrucifer growled. "Summon Goratrix. This is his failure. He has done nothing to prepare for Malachive's rule nor has he been an effective leader of the other Demons."

Drakkara suddenly took great offense. "This is Goratrix's failure? What direction have you given him? The only time you have ever spoken to him was when you cast him out transforming him into a Demon!"

"SILENCE YOURSELF. You may be my mate but you will not forget yourself and your place in my service! If you ever defend him again as you have before you will be sorry." screamed Necrucifer.

Drakkara started to argue back, but stopped herself, and smiled mischievously. "As you wish.... 'my lord'". This comment filled with sarcasm. Drakkara quickly disappeared into the darkness.

Necrucifer turned around and willed Goratrix beside him. "You know not who you serve. You are a failure now as you were before you were transformed. Perhaps time in the Abyss will teach you a lesson. You no longer are my Demon Lord." Goratrix slowly rose to speak, stretching his wings with a leathery crackle. As he approached his father, Necrucifer with only a thought put more pain into Goratrix's body than that of a hundred dying warriors.

Pain enveloped the demon. It was a good sensation at first, one he had missed for some time. As he began to revel in the rising agony, he realized there would be no end in sight to this pain. From glory to defeat, Goratrix doubled over as his vision went crimson with both rage and pain. His gaping jaws opened, releasing a chilling howl... But no one could hear him. As the pain bubbled away, his eyes refocused to his own horror. A group of people, yet not people, gathered about him. He looked about, feeling the pull of their energy. His father had said the Abyss?

As his mind focused slowly, the cold chills of ice-torn winds dug into his hardened skin, and the frigid stone clutched at him. He looked out at the wavering forms before him... All souls he had taken in before his leave of this place. He had returned. After the eternity spent escaping, he had been replaced in the same god's forsaken hole, left to rot and gather more souls. His mind raced to rage, as he jerked his body into standing, ready to release his full fury open those closest to him. A freezing blast of wind sent him to his knees before he could take his first movement. In his weakened state, he forgot the agony he had just endured.

Goratrix looked to the heavens, extending his fisted talons. "I served you, you wretch! I served you!!", He cried, as his throat bubbled over with warm liquid. Alarmed, his gaze fell. The cold stone was covered, as was his body, in warmth. He finally had noticed he was bleeding.

Malachive was now unburdened by the limitations of the mortal mind. He knows the secrets to many things beyond mortal comprehension but still, as anyone around his age of 20 years; he couldn't piece a lot of things together.

"Of my father wants me to conquer this world, why not just throw a meteor at all kingdoms that resist?" He thought.

"Indeed," said a voice from behind him.

Malachive had sensed no one near him, so he knew whoever this voice came from was a God of some type.

A woman with pale skin and long black hair stood with more beauty in her smile than all wonders of the world combined. Instantly, Malachive recognized her.

"Mother!" Malachive said with a boyish excitement.

Drakkara embraced her son and for a moment one would never know the evil within these two hearts.

"You do not know the trouble your father went through getting the rock to land. The same people who would see you dead everything they could to stop it. So now the responsibility is yours to conquer the world. And while I would have you off this world safe, these events must come to pass" Drakkara said.

"I guess I can understand that. Already there are many who attack me." Malachive replied. "Elves, Knights and even kingdoms have come for my head. If not protected by your Black Tower and some of the Demons, my life would already be at an end.

"And what of the immortals? The ones who suck life to sustain their own?"

"The vampires? Mother, they have long forgotten their dark gift as a prize to be cherished. They have long stopped being thankful for eternal life and immortal powers. They are a lost cause. I have hope for many, but only a few of those are worthy of their gift. And I do mean a seldom few."

"Perhaps you should teach them a lesson?"

"Can I?" Malachive paused for a moment. "I'm still getting used to this.

My powers grow daily and I am coming to understand its limits are far beyond what I imagined."

Drakkara grinned an evil smile. "The first steps have been taken. The rest is your responsibility. I will help guide you all that I can, but you should know that the more your father and I involve ourselves, the more the others will become involved as well. Even the neutral Gods fear you and will do what they must to kill you. We created you without their permission or their council. However you were created with purpose and as my son you have all of the tools to ensure our victory. You know what to do."

In an instant, she was gone.

"Indeed mother, indeed. The beginning of the end is now and I know just how to start." Malachive, his eyes a flaming black.

His mind wandered in many different directions. Even possessing the intellect of a God, his plans were so complicated and precise that his attention was drawn in an infinite number of directions. It was due to these various thoughts that he barely sensed the presence of the Abhorrant before he began scaling the hillside towards Malachive. This momentarily lapse in awareness caused him great irritation, for he knew even as in control as he was, the Abhorrant were nicknamed the Godslayers for a reason.

"What is it, Deathmeer?"

"I merely await you orders, Malachive. The kender city has been lain to waste for months now and we have progressed no further. We hunger for more blood and will satiate our thirst one way or another."

"You will act when I command it, Deathmeer, and not a moment before. There are pieces to this plan, beyond your comprehension, that must be put into motion before we can proceed further. You will continue to hold."

The Abhorrant sneered and turned to leave, glancing back at Malachive as he disappeared into the night.

The Dark Son watched him go, further annoyed at this most recent challenge. Deathmeer was becoming more and more aggressive.

Suddenly a pillar of flame erupted from the ground mere yards away from Malachive, subsiding as quickly as it came to reveal the form of a massive, hulking minotaur.

Malachive seemed undisturbed as he looked on. "To what do I owe this honor, Mencius?"

"Blessings, Dark Son. Your Father sends his greetings," he growled out roughly.

"Indeed. Tell him to send something I can make use of."

Mencius snorted and shifted about impatiently. "It is I who brings you something you can make great use of, Malachive. I have watched your interaction with the Godslayer ever since you brought them back into this world. You are not as safe around them as you think and with your attention as scattered as the populace of Balifore, you are vulnerable on top of being mortal. You cannot lead your armies and protect yourself at the same time. You know this."

Malachive was careful to response, keeping his eyes locked on the God of Rage.

"I am the Son of Necrucifer, Mencius. I can do anything. I have the infinite power of the universe at my disposal and nothing in this world or the next can cause me any harm."

Mencius reached behind his back and unstrapped his gigantic war axe, slamming it deep into the ground inches away from Malachive.

"Dammit, Malachive, you are still a boy in my eyes. You may be the Son of Necrucifer but you have not been around as long as I. I survived the first war between the Abhorrants and the Gods and you need not open a history book to know there were more Gods before the war began than after! They all possessed the same powers as you and they still fell before the onslaught of these creatures. What kept the remaining eighteen of us alive was strength and the knowledge that we could be beaten unless we prepared ourselves."

Malachive's eyes narrowed. "Then why are you here, Lord of Rage."

"Because I come to prepare YOU, Malachive. You were borne without the consent of the other Gods and if you die, the dark pantheon's advantage dies with you. Necrucifer and Drakkara cannot create anything like you again. You are the future of darkness and I have come to insure my place in that future."

"You are in need of a guardian and a General. Someone who can keep the Abhorrants in check, someone who can lead your armies with cold and calculating precision, and someone who possesses the rage and power to wreak havoc upon those who would stand against you."

"Who could I possibly trust that would provide all that you say? Who possesses such abilities?"

Mencius simply smiled and glanced towards the heavens. Thunder clouds were rolling in and lightning could be seen in the distance.

Grakaris scampered through the bowls of Hell with speed and agility. Past the burning flames, the screaming souls and the frozen wasteland that made up much of Hell's infrastructure. Further down he traveled, past the bloody carnage, the ferocious deziens, and the tempted succubae. Grakaris feared his ultimate destination, a rarely frequented pit of Hell buried particularly deep and isolated.

He finally reached the rickety rope bridge that led across a pool of lava and fire to a single obsidian-constructed cube. Inside was Hell's most recent addition and feared monster. Grakaris quickly closed the distance between the bridge and the cube's entrance. Pushing open the large door, he crept inside cautiously and gulped before he spoke. The room was totally dark. "The... The Lord calls for you immediately. You are needed to serve once more."

Mantaroth's red eyes burned through the darkness like a scythe.