The dark clouds flickered with light as the flames of the Nether bellowed beneath. Screams could be heard for miles, the snapping and cracking of whips and the barking of orders echoed through the land.
This was the Nether, the place where forgotten, misguided and evil souls of mortals go when they die. On the tallest plateau sat The Dark Keep. Home to Mavon, God of the Dead and Fire. From a distance Mavon did not appear to be a god, more of a large human with fire magic. This is the way he intended it to be. Of course he could make himself massive with over-bearing features but Mavon personally liked to keep things level so to speak. Mavon stood at 7'5 ft tall and 350 lbs of pure muscle. His eyes gleamed red with a tint of violet and his face was strong with features that would fit a person that spent his life looking after the dead. His hair was black and wavy and is usually up in a messy bun of sorts.
Mavon walked over to the edge of his keep overlooking The Lake of Oblivion. The place where mortals come through from the living realm.
As demons and personnel flew and walked by they bowed to Mavon showing the lord of the Nether respect as they went about their duties. Mavon smiled and bowed back in respect as he went on overlooking the realm. Someone walked up behind him and tapped him on the back.
"Excuse me Lord Mavon, but you have a visitor. He isn't on the list for today's meetings but he said it's fine and he's sure you'll make time for him."
"Of course, does this person have a name?" Mavon asked curiously. He almost never got visitors and when he did he knew the moment they entered his realm.
"He wouldn't say his name, just that you would know when you see him."
As he and his assistant walked through the halls of the Dark Keep, the hallways seemed to move with Mavon as if obeying his very thoughts on where to lead him too, the lights appeared as they walked and disappeared as they left.
"Tell me Shia, how's life in Aecitus?" Mavon asked, Aecitus was the realm of eternity. It is a place where souls who are known for good deeds and had true kind souls go after they die, a place of true paradise where their wish is the realm's command.
"Well my lord to be truthful, it's boring and dull. Everybody is relaxed and peaceful and at times it seems like an overseer isn't even necessary." Shia said as she gripped her clipboard. It was clear she had been worried about expressing her feelings about her post. Aecitus was one of the best jobs/roles you could get and yet she seemed unhappy.
"Well I'm sure it will get better, it always does." Mavon laughed as they turned the corner into the main hall where the visitor was waiting.
Shia began.
"Presenting Lord Mavon, One of the 3 Kings, God of the Dead & Fire, Lord of the Afterlife and Judge of the Dead."
Mavon looked at the visitor who was staring at him with deep mysterious intent.
"Well hello Lord Mavon, it's nice to finally meet the esteemed God of the Dead." As he walked around Mavons gaze deepened.
"Tell me, what is your name?" He asked smiling, his eyes never leaving the visitor.
"No one gets into my realm without me knowing, what's more, you refuse to show the common respect of bowing in the presence of a god." His voice deepened, echoing through the castle making it shudder with authority. Shia started looking at Mavon.
This was the first time she had ever seen him semi-serious. He's giving off an aura that makes even the worst of demons want to die. This could end badly, she thought.
The visitor smiled and waved his hand and a chair appeared beneath him. He sat down and folded his hands as if he was getting ready to put a deal on the table.
"Mavon, you seem like a sensible person. Are you a sensible person." He asked as they locked eyes.
"If the time is in need of it." Mavon responded quietly but strongly.
"Now down to business, in the past you and your brothers were renowned for your strength in battle and your formidable power. You guys even bested Dragos and Shiva in combat, to be honest that is impressive in and of itself."
As Mavon grew curious, how did this person know my brothers and our past? What made him even more curious was this person had absolutely no divine aura. This was exceedingly strange because all divine beings whether weak or strong have an aura that can be sensed by other deities.
The "Visitor" was smaller than Mavon at about 6 '5 and 250 lbs he had a slim but built build with curly stringy red hair that hung down over his head (not ginger). His face was scarred and he had a look of permanent determination about him. His eyes were red with hints of darkness even in the light.
"Mavon, I've come to see you for 2 reasons.
Reason 1. I've heard that despite your realms nature, you're incredibly hospitable to your guests and I would like to see this first hand." He laughed
"I mean it's funny that the lord of the dead is actually a nice person, it's honestly...foolish." he smiled and looked at Mavon who was still standing looking at him with a smile.
"Reason 2. I've come to deliver a message." He said as he stood up and cracked his back and neck.
"For the atrocities that you and your brothers committed to my family, I will erase you and them from existence and this time, there will be no where you can hide from me" as he pulled a sword out of nowhere and charged.
Mavon acted instantly. A barrier of energy flared around Shia. He ducked under the swing and drove his fist into the intruder's chest, knocking the breath from his lungs."
"You come to my realm, deny me the respect of being in my domain, then proceed to strike me and my associate. That was a mistake." Mavon's aura surged, the nether itself seemed to quiver and shake. Groaning under the impossible presence of its Lord.
Shia watched in disbelief as the castle they were in cracked and shook under the weight.
Was this the power of the God of the Nether, she had heard stories of the 3 kings and their power. But to see it first hand was something else entirely, like having gravity itself weigh down on you. She looked over at Mavon who was still standing over him. His eyes crazed and steadfast.
Mavon picked him up by his neck
"Please, if this is all you got then I'm afraid you won't last long in my world." As the visitor's head hung, Blood dripped from his mouth he managed to let out a few words.
"You are impressive Lord Mavon, there's no denying that." He raised his head and locked eyes with Mavon.
"However, in this place that you call home. I am the one who will decide what lives AND WHAT DIES!" He yelled as his aura exploded slamming Mavon into a wall. The Visitor dusted himself off and whipped the blood from his mouth. Mavon lay lodged in the wall.
Had he done that by just releasing his aura? How? How could someone overpower him this fast? He thought as dislodged himself and jumped down. Shia, he thought as he glanced over at her.
"Shia, I'm sending you back to Arcitus, stay there until I send word that it's safe." As he waved his hand and Shia disappeared in a flash of flames.
There were no more distractions he thought as he looked back over at the Visitor who was just watching with amusement.
"Honarable effort, protecting your servants before worrying about yourself. A wasted effort but nonetheless honorable." The Visitor raised his sword, its point leveled at Mavon's chest. "Shall we dance?"
Mavon's grin was cold as he grabbed a blackened greatsword from the wall. "Let's."
They vanished. Two blurs colliding in a storm of steel. The first clash sent a shockwave ripping through the hall, hurling shattered stone from the walls. Mavon's strikes came heavy and relentless, each one shaking the ground, forcing the Visitor to meet him blow for blow.
The Visitor moved like a shadow, slipping, sidestepping, parrying in tight, efficient motions. Sparks burst with every impact, scattering on the floor. The air thickened under the weight of their auras, the Nether itself groaning at the collision of wills.
Mavon spun his blade in a downward arc, forcing the Visitor to block. The force drove him to one knee, the ground fracturing beneath his boots. But instead of breaking, the Visitor surged upward, shoving Mavon back a step just enough to slip inside his guard.
Cold steel kissed Mavon's throat. A thin line of blood rolled down.
The Visitor's razor-sharp blade pressed to Mavon's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Tell me," he murmured, voice like a dagger in the dark, "did you ever tell your brothers? You ran and hid from me when we invaded? How you cowered in a corner… and vanished before I could reach you?"
Mavon's expression hardened, the memory clawing its way back. "There's only one time I've ever run from anyone and that was when…"
The Visitor's fist slammed into Mavon's face. The shockwave ripped through the hall, toppling pillars and shattering the obsidian floor beneath their feet.
Mavon was hurled backward, embedding into the wall with bone-jarring impact. He dropped from the crater, boots cracking the stone on landing, his greatsword scraping sparks as he steadied himself.
The Visitor stepped forward through the dust and debris, casually wiping a smear of blood from his lip. His smile was cold.
"An honorable effort, fighting back as if you stood a chance." Mavons stance faltered as he stood up. Blood seeped from his mouth.
"Mavonnn…" His tone turned mocking. "Don't tell me you've lost your nerve."
And in that moment through the grin, the voice, the unbearable weight of his presence. Mavon finally knew who stood before him
Flashback
A much younger Mavon stood beside his brothers, Madras and Stolas, looming over the broken figure of their father.
Madras, the tallest, stood like a storm given flesh, 8 feet of towering muscle, his 400-pound frame carved with battle scars and tattoos of jagged lightning bolts as if they had been burned into him by the skies themselves. His jet-black hair was tied into a tight bun, and his eyes glowed with a fierce lightning blue laced with deep violet. Every line in his weathered face spoke of war and endurance, as though his entire life had been fought for inch by inch. In his hand, he held a massive spear, its silver shaft etched with lightning marks, the deadly tip humming with power as arcs of electricity danced over his skin.
Stolas, by contrast, was shorter at 6 '8 and far leaner, though no less dangerous. His build was wiry and predatory, his short black curls shadowing eyes of pure, unnatural violet, a shade that shimmered with madness. Resting upon his head was a mask that pulsed with raw power, streaked with red energy lines and crowned with sharp, curved horns. There was a story behind that mask, one that dripped with blood and terror. But that tale would come later.
Madras, the God of Lightning and Battle Strategy. Stolas, the God of Chaos and Nightmares. And Mavon, the God of the Nether and the Undead. Together, they were known across realms as the Three Kings.
Now, those kings stood before the man who had once ruled over them, the man they blamed for everything.
Their father lay weakened on the cold ground, his voice ragged but defiant. "Heh… look at you," he rasped. "Ungrateful… you think I wanted to imprison you? I did it to protect you! You have no idea what's out there. If you kill me, they will know where to find you and then it's over. Over for the very beings I sacrificed everything for…"
His head drooped, his strength fading.
"Enough of your lies," Madras growled, lifting his father's chin with the tip of his spear. "What kind of father imprisons his only children?"
Mavon stood a step behind his brothers, silent. He remembered, he would always remember the moment his father smiled at him, just before a swirling portal tore open beneath his feet and hurled him into the endless flames of the Nether.
Even now, despite everything, Mavon still felt that buried ember of love for his father. But his brothers had no such mercy. And Mavon knew… if he tried to stand in their way, he would end up just like the man lying before them..