Victor, second to Stephen- The High Priest, snarled at the council members as they floated about the cavern. An ancient castle built deep within the earth’s crust. Victor didn’t have to look at the council members; he could see their reflection from the stone walls surrounding him. He heard them gush over the souls they had helped for the day. Pathetic. What a waste of existence helping weaker souls.
He left the heart of the cavern and moved into an unfinished tunnel. In a black tunic and soft leather pants darkness blanketed him, wiping all sight from him. But Victor knew where he was going. He didn’t need to see his path. For it was a path he travel every day. The air was stagnate and thick around him as he moved. His high boots scuffed the stone beneath his feet. The minutes passed unnoticed. Time to him was a meaningless as breathing. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t be reborn, he couldn’t age, and he couldn’t leave this cavern.
After sometime a soft glow showed in the distance and grew larger. The tunnel opened to a massive burrow with glowing pale blue pools of water.
Victor didn’t stop to admire the beauty of the pools, he didn’t stop to run his fingers through the water, loathing drove him forward causing him to forget the beauty around him. The cavern was a tomb he couldn’t escape. A hell he would never be released from as long as Stephen was the Gate Keeper. He was bound to the Cavern of Souls through Stephen. Victor was tired of being controlled.
He continued on, leaving the glowing pools behind him. Again time passed and he moved with ease once more cloaked in darkness. The darkness was his home, it filled him and he became one with it.
Hours later Victor could see the mouth of the cavern and the world beyond. He eased his pace as to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. Anger boiled in his blood and seeped from his pores. A red mist twisted viciously around him. He walked toward the opening. An invisible chain wrapped around his chest and his muscles resisted. It took much of his strength to reach the opening of the cavern. Sweat ran down Victor’s brow. His legs felt as if locked in stone yet he persevered. His breathing was raged and every muscle screamed for him to stop moving. Victor blocked out the pain in his body because he was pain. He eased the worlds pain by taking it into himself.
Pain was a living breathing entity within him and pain he could control if nothing else.
Victory stepped outside the mouth of the cavern and leaned against the rock behind him. He could hardly breathe. Pain scrapped its sharp claws through his lungs, yet Victor had to keep pushing. He would break Stephens hold on his body. He would leave the cavern as a man not merely a spirit, an angel, a light. Thousands of years ago he had been a man who lived in the world was part of it. A good man, Victor sneered, too good of a man. The Creator had seen his kindness, his strength, and his ability to lead others as a gift to be had by all souls. When that life had ended he found himself here evermore.
That man was gone.
The red mist around Victor darkened and he pushed away from the rock and forced his legs to continue on. Stumbling Victor locked his sights on the nearest tree. Anger caused from the pain of his body spurred him on. Loathing for Stephen his blood raged. The mist was thick around him. Victor reached for the tree and collapsed to his knees. The pain eased and he began to breathe easier. He turned and rested his back on the tree. He stared at the opening of the cavern. A wicked grin tugged his lips up. A hollow laugh escaped his mouth.
Was it really that easy to escape the cavern? All of these year’s there had only been a twenty-foot barrier keeping the council members bodies locked inside.
He used his tunic to wipe the sweat running down his face. He was certain no other member could have endured such physical pain. Being in their bodies only to experience pleasure, none would try what he had just done. For the first time in thousands of years Victor felt excitement. He could leave the cavern. His head dropped back against the tree. He could start to create his army and rid the world of the council. The weaker souls in this world needed to suffer. Why should the weak inherit the earth.
Victor peered into the sky and grinned. Come and get me Creator.