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The Death of Deltras the Prideful


An Account by One Who was There



  
The two-hundred and forty-ninth year after the Cataclysm was a time of strange signs. Tremors in the earth and lights in the sky were reported from all corners of Asmodae.


Lord Marchutan, fearing they might be omens of something terrible, sequestered himself away to study these portents.


On the streets of Pandaemonium, in the villages and farms, one rumour was on everyone's thoughts: the Balaur were returning.






  
When Lord Marchutan emerged from his tower, his always-stoic face showed the faintest signs of concern. The portents were clear, he said.


A doorway would be opening in the desert of Morheim, a doorway to another place. Something would be coming through.


Lord Azphel ordered Lord Zikel to lead a force to Morheim immediately, to force the invaders back from Asmodae.


I was in the Steel Dagger Legion then, and it was my honour to be called upon by Lord Zikel, to serve directly under a Shedim Lord.




  
As our new Legion--the Shadow's Guard Legion, made of the finest fighting men in Asmodae--set out for Morheim, strange omens continued across the land.


All of the shattered pieces of the Tower of Eternity, broken by the Cataclysm and strewn to all corners of the world, began to slowly rise into the sky.


Something dire would happen soon. We all felt it.






  
When we reached the deserts of Morheim, the air itself crackled with Aetheric lightning.


Following Marchutan's prophecies, we set our camp in the heart of the desert, and waited.


Lord Zikel neither slept nor ate, simply stood and stared off into the sky, as if he saw something none of us could.






  
Zikel's shout woke us in the blue hour of dawn. Fear wiped the sleep from our eyes when we saw the portal opening, glowing rays streaming out from a hole in the sky.


It made terrible ripping sounds as it grew, until we could make out an army of dark figures in the glare. My hand went to my blade, and I was seized with a cold sweat.






  
As the figures stepped out of the portal, we all braced for the worst. But to our shock, Zikel ordered us to stand down--they were not Balaur, but Humans!


Yet they were quite different from us, their skin warm and tanned, their hair golden.


Their leader stepped forward to address us, a Daeva of prideful bearing, dressed in elegantly jeweled armour.






  
Seeing that we could not understand his speech at first, the Daeva switched to an ancient Human dialect, one that many older Daeva, including myself, still knew.


He proclaimed himself as Deltras, leader of the Storm Legion, the pride of Elysea, and the manifest will of Lady Ariel. At the mention of Lady Ariel's name, Zikel bristled.




  
Zikel made plain his feelings for Lady Ariel, and all those other traitors that followed Israphel's plan.


The followers of those deluded Lords, he said, must surely be feeble-minded themselves.


Yet Deltras continued to boast of the glory of his "Seraphim Lords," casting insults on the Asmodians, calling us abominations that never should have survived the Cataclysm.






  
Lord Zikel would hear no more. With one swift gesture, he drew a bolt of Daevic fire from his soul, and pierced the breast of the prideful Deltras.


The Storm Legion stood paralysed in fright at their leader’s death, and we fell upon them as a crushing wave, showing them the true strength of Aion's chosen people.


Upon seeing our might, they turned tail and ran, fleeing back to Elysea to tell Lady Ariel the news: the Shedim Lords had survived, and they would at last have their revenge on those who brought about the Cataclysm.