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The ground swirled with black and amethyst smoke that wrapped around the gathered audience, but they were seemingly oblivious to it.

Polished onyx pillars framed the chapel, reaching hundreds of meters into the air, and disappearing into the darkness overhead. Wrought iron candelabras held black candles with white burning flames that hungrily sought the flesh of all those around them.

On a black granite platform in the circular apse sat two black thrones adorned with skulls with red and black diamonds for eyes.

The decorated dome ceiling over the apse was masterfully painted with a depiction of the overthrow of the Unified House and the Rise of the Umbra Tide.

It was the vision from a dark souled Doomsayer from many centuries past, that was captured in mnemonic glass as a testament to their gospel of what was finally coming to pass.

The beautiful artwork was the bloody reminder of what was to come when the Umbra Tide retreated into the shadows once it extinguished the Light before it came crashing into the World of Man with a vengeance next.

A smug male sat on one throne made of skulls and metal, a crown of twisting black metallic vines and thorns rested on his head, his attention on the foretelling overhead, something he had studied religiously for longer than he cared to admit. His thin lips were painted red from the blood still coating them from the drink he had just taken from the golden goblet in one hand, the other absently drumming on the arm on the throne he was lounging on.

The overwhelming smugness coming from the male was mind-numbing, and it radiated from him like a stomach-turning aura you could not ignore the caress of.

From the back of the unholiest of places, where the Devilry were gathered, the air split, appearing as a tear in time and space. The blackest of black rolled from the tear, consuming all light it touched, extinguishing it with a feathery caress from its exhaled breath. Umbra tendrils of shadows rolled from the tear and snaked along the ground, solidifying as they went along, possessing a consciousness driven by hunger and vengeance, and fueled by hatred.

As they moved throughout the area, each creature they snaked around and brushed against, they absorbed the darkened soul within, reducing the creature to a pillar of compacted ash retaining the shape of the creature it once was.

A shimmery distortion in the crepuscule strolled down the aisle separating the audience in the nave, the corporal-less being was airy in nature, but its form was discernible from the black and amethyst mist that wrapped around them as they moved with sultry grace.

Curvy hips swayed from side to side, and their long legs moved them with demonic grace as they floated along. Their shoulders were pulled back, and full breasts rose and fell with each level, shallow breath they took.

They carried themselves with a sense of purpose and power, strength and pride, and their head was held high with confidence and regality.

As the form approached the seated King, the shimmering in the visual spectrum and darkness pulled together from around the room, pulling from the tear in time and space, and solidified into a female wearing a tight black leather dress with a corset top, and a long train that trailed behind her as she floated. The long, slithering train possessed a consciousness that reached out for those still with a darkened soul within them, the tendrils wrapped around them before draining each of the very lifeforce that animated their vessel.

The female's long hair hung down her back like a carved curtain of miriam jasper, and her skin appeared like smooth bronzite.

The King stood when she approached. "Hello, My Precious Pet," he greeted with a fang-filled smile.

She reached out and caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers in passing, and when she did, his skin burned and sizzled, splitting apart as if she cut him and yet no weapon was in her skilled hand.

The King hissed and fought the snarl tugging at his top lip.

With a sigh of boredom, she turned around then sat on his throne, her irises enlarged, nearly covering all of the whites of the sclera, turning them metallic purple outlined in black that moved over the gathered audience, causing sparks of amethyst to flare around her pupils as she amusingly looked upon the ashy remains kneeling before her.

Shadows moved around the area, wrapping around the stone pillars, trying to get into position.

She held her hand up and then twirled her index finger around in a slow circuit before she softly blew against the tip of her finger with a smile.

The penumbra within each shadowy being started to violently vibrate before they began to break apart and were pulled away from their shadowy forms and flew away from their vessels.

Her full lips pulled back to reveal a perfect white smile that glistened in the silvery candlelight as she watched a dozen Guardians of the Pact of the Eternal Umbra twist and turn overhead, being pulled apart, shadowy limb by limb, with just the curl of her finger.

The King stood there, watching her, oblivious to what she was doing and why, the three razor-sharp slices across his cheek on one side bleeding profusely, but he was now oblivious to it.

Instead, the King was enthralled by the creature that was on his throne, and finally by his side. Everything she did, every little thing she accomplished, every remedial task she executed, captivated him in the most unusual and unnatural ways. It was as if she was a Siren, and with merely an exhaled sigh she possessed the minds and souls of all those around her.

It was as if she were a Vampiress with unprecedented thrall that could wield it with merely a smirk and without uttering a single word.

The caress you longed to receive from her, you would never get, and yet your darkened soul needed it more than blood or the lightened thaumaturgy from the souls you devoured for power.

Their Queen was unlike any other, and she was the single most powerful being to ever draw breath, she would singlehandedly turn the tide in the war between Devilry and Light, and the World of Man would finally be theirs for the taking in the end.

With an amused, womanly chuckle, she snapped her fingers and the writhing, agony-ravaged souls overhead exploded in puffs of smoke before they dissipated as they fell to the ground like falling snow.

The King smiled when she chuckled, oh how he longed to hear the joke, but he knew she would never tell him.

Never did the Queen tell him her secrets.

She never entrusted anyone with what was in her mind and heart.

The King tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away from him and then dismissively waved him away.

He glared at her.

"Consent," she scathingly reminded him, cocking an eyebrow.

The King bowed, fighting to keep the snarl tugging at his top lip from showing.

He was the King!

What he wanted he took, he didn't need to ask permission, especially permission to touch his own Queen!

But he had waited a very, very long time for this moment, and he wasn't going to lose it now because of wounded pride from being shot down, once again, by those of her bloodline.

"My Queen, your people," the King reminded her in a warning tone, then swept his arm out towards the crowd. "They have been anxiously waiting for you for centuries, My Precious Pet," he said.

"Oh, have they?" she asked before erupting in a bout of laughter as the glamour covering the nave faded, revealing the truth she was concealing.

The King's eyes widened when he saw the gathered crowd was nothing more than compacted ashy remains, and that their souls were missing. "What have you done?" he stammered, fear radiating from him.

A deep, womanly chuckle came from directly behind him and he jumped, startled, before turning to face her, and suddenly her hand was around his throat and she was picking him up off of his feet.

"What you wanted me to do," she informed him, bursts of amethyst flaring in her solid black eyes. "You will truly wish you would have waited a little bit longer before trying to bring the Umbra Tide to the surface, you inept little boy!" she scathingly informed him, holding her free hand out then wrapping her fingers around the black snath that started to materialize.

The souls and lingering shadowy pieces of those she devoured swarmed together and raced through the air towards the towering Queen as the scythe in her hand continued to materialize, feeding from the darkened souls and remains of the Guardians of the Pact of the Eternal Umbra.

"No!" the King yelled when the hand wrapped around his neck started to illuminate with purple ambient light, accompanying it black spidering rose to the surface of the King's skin from the point of contact and started to spread up his face, and it was followed by purple streaking that looked like angry electrical currents, searing into his pale skin and illuminating beneath the surface.

"Let us play, My Lord," she mused, snapping the scythe in her other hand out to the side, causing the massive blade to spring free before the area exploded in light.