The shadows in Arkan's Hide stretched long, clinging to the opulent furnishings like a second skin. A single, piercing purple eye gleamed from behind the wide, bluish grin of his mask, a grotesque beacon in the pervasive gloom. The air, thick with the scent of ozone and something subtly metallic, corrupted the atmosphere of the room. A faint light, a mere suggestion of the outside world, bled around the edges of the heavy, ornate door.
A heavy thud echoed, the door shuddering inwards. Kravic Bane returned, stumbled into the room, his armour scuffed, his breathing laboured. His eyes, though obscured by the perpetual shadow of his helmet, projected an aura of defeat.
"He slipped away," Kravic's voice, a gravelly rumble, tore through the quiet. A flicker of something cold, something utterly devoid of warmth, passed through Arkan's single visible eye. "The Hollow One… escaped."
"Escaped?" Arkan's voice, usually a smooth, almost melodious baritone, held a razor's edge. "Or did you simply lose him, Bane?"
Kravic shifted, his heavy boots scraping on the polished floor. "His weaponry, firepower… too quick. He was gone before I could close."
"A shame." The word dripped with false sympathy, a silk glove concealing a fist of iron. "No prey, no coin, Bane. That is the Brotherhood's way."
"But I tracked him," Kravic insisted, a desperate edge creeping into his tone. "Across half of Mizu City. My ship is damaged, my rifle decimated. I deserve recompense."
"Deserve?" Arkan's head tilted, the heart-shaped gem on his gothic hat seeming to pulse with a malevolent light. "You fail, and you speak of desertion?" A sharp, almost imperceptible snap of his fingers cut through the air.
Kravic opened his mouth, a protest forming on his lips, but before a sound could escape, a swirling vortex of inky blackness enveloped him. A choked gasp, a desperate scrabble, then the darkness imploded, sucking him into oblivion. The only trace left was a faint, lingering scent of burnt matter.
Gone.
Arkan stood alone, the silence deafening once more. He ran a gloved finger along the ornate hilt of his sword, its purple energy now crackling with a renewed intensity. "The time has come," he murmured, his voice a low, self-satisfied purr.
He extended a hand, palm up, and a faint purple glow emanated from his fingertips. The shadows in the room deepened, coalescing, twisting into intricate patterns. The air grew heavy, charged with raw energy. The single light from the doorway dimmed, then winked out completely, plunging the Hide into absolute darkness, save for the pulsating purple light now emanating from Arkan. He closed his eyes, focusing, channelling an ancient, terrifying power. The purple light intensified, flaring outwards, illuminating the walls with a sickly, ethereal sheen.
The very fabric of reality seemed to thin, shimmering, and then, in the centre of the room, a shimmering, obsidian mirror materialised.
Through its surface, a swirling vortex of primordial darkness churned. Within that maelstrom, a colossal, shadowy figure began to take shape. Its form was indistinct, vast, a being composed of pure void, yet two burning pinpricks of crimson light, like distant, dying stars, fixed on Arkan.
A voice, a chorus of a thousand whispers and a single, deafening roar, echoed from the mirror, rattling the very foundations of Arkan's Hide. "Who dares disturb me and breach the veil of the Abyss?"
Arkan's smile, though hidden by his mask, widened, a predatory gleam in his visible eye. "A humble admirer, my Lord. One who seeks to right a cosmic injustice."
"Injustice?" Morrath's voice boomed, a wave of pure dread washing over the room. "I know only the hunger of the void, the eternal darkness."
"And the longing for true dominion, I presume?"
Arkan's tone was smooth, almost oily, yet laced with an undeniable reverence. "To spread your glorious Abyss across the cosmos, unhindered by the pathetic Imperium and their God Emperor?"
A low rumble, like distant thunder, emanated from the mirror. "You speak of freedom. You speak of power beyond measure. What price do you ask, mortal?"
"A simple exchange, my Lord." Arkan extended his hand towards the mirror, his purple energy now mingling with the inky blackness within. "I offer you liberation. I offer you the universe. In return, I ask for… a share of your power. Enough to orchestrate your grand design, to be your loyal harbinger in the mortal realm."
The evil black pinpricks in the void narrowed, scrutinising Arkan. "You seek to ride the wave of my wrath, little mortal. You seek to elevate yourself on the shoulders of a god."
"And what a glorious ride it shall be, my Lord," Arkan purred, his voice dripping with conviction. "For together, we shall reshape reality. The Oblivion Hive will consume all, and your name, Morrath, will be whispered in terror across every star system." He paused, letting the weight of his proposal hang in the air.
"So… my Lord, do we have a deal?"
From the swirling darkness of the mirror, a colossal, shadowy hand, formed of pure void, slowly emerged. It was not a hand of flesh and bone, but a writhing mass of tendrils and shadows, crackling with raw, untamed power. It stretched towards Arkan, its presence chilling the air, sucking the warmth from the room.
"You, mortal. I know not of who you truly are. But you speak with undeniable loyalty to me. With the power of the Void, you have a deal."
Arkan met it without hesitation, his gloved hand reaching out, clasping the shadowy appendage. A surge of raw, untamed energy slammed into him, a tempest of power that threatened to tear him apart. His mask almost grew larger with power, a smile replicating a true one, a silent groan escaping his lips as the power coursed through his veins, igniting every nerve ending, every cell in his body. His single visible eye flared a brilliant, terrifying purple. The shadows in the room danced frantically, mirroring the chaos within him.
The mirror shimmered, then began to recede, the image of Morrath's vast, dark form fading back into the primordial void. The shadowy hand, having delivered its pact, dissolved into nothingness. The obsidian surface of the mirror rippled, then vanished, leaving only the lingering scent of ozone and the oppressive weight of the newly acquired power in the air.
A guttural laugh tore from Arkan's throat, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the now-darkened Hide. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated triumph, a maniacal symphony of ambition realised. He stretched, feeling the newfound strength surging through his limbs, a delicious hum beneath his skin. The universe, once a mere plaything, now felt like a canvas awaiting his masterful and dark strokes.
"Now," he breathed, a wicked grin stretching beneath his mask, "to gather my allies." He pulled a small, sleek communicator from within his shadowy coat. His fingers danced across its surface, a single name appearing on the display. "Evelyn, my dear," he murmured, his voice now imbued with a chilling confidence, "our dinner plans just got a little more… interesting."