[M] The God of Terror {{RedKayne & Hannelorian}}

[Hannelorian]

Rated M for strong violence, blood and gore, strong sexual situations, use of tobacco/drugs, heavy language, and other dark themes

A Throne of Gods Spin-Off
OOC

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Prologue

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In the blink of an eye the world had changed. Darkness has fallen and everything one had known was suddenly gone. A wave of destruction and death had swept the land leaving large parts of it unrecognizable. The need for survival was paramount, a return to almost animalistic instinct seemed unavoidable. But none of that mattered, the only thing one could remotely or conceivably control was the present moment, at least until something stole even that shred of hope away.

A thick fog permeated the atmosphere, rendering it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of you. The scent of smoke from distant fires seemed to hang there, an assault on the senses, skin itched and eyes stung. There was no escape, the sound of hounds running and barking in the distance was closer and closer, louder and louder. Don't focus on the sound. Don't focus on the sound. He told himself, his own voice echoing within his head. The young man, no older than 20 years old was running in a blind panic. No way of knowing where he was going, or where he had even come from.

"Keep running, Harry!" There was a voice that hit him, it was almost familiar but he could not place it. Accompanying the voice he felt like there was a presence beside him, another man, running and urging him to continue. Positively encouraging him, it was giving him just enough strength to go forward. Who was it? Just that little extra boost to push through to the other side as he could feel the hounds getting so close they could nip at his feet.

Harry could barely make out the structure that came into view, only taking in the sight of wooden doors and a golden handle bar which his clammy hands collided with, pressing it down, his own momentum pushing him forward, tumbling through the doorway and collapsing onto the floor. He could barely catch his breath, a hand clutching at his chest, tugging at the worn and dirtied blue fabric of his university branded hoodie. Pulling it away from his neck, he struggled for breath and could feel his face flush bright red, his skin dotted in a cold sweat.

The smell of the fraying carpet was familiar, the smell of must and old was the only way he had ever described it. Despite regular cleaning, it never seemed to stop smelling. The edges of the maroon carpet were lined with golden metal that held it in place, a delicate bit of trim. The cool marble floor that crept out along the rest of the hall was illuminated in a pale light that seemingly had no source. The walls were wood paneled, some say the wood itself came from an old whaling ship from the earliest days of the colony. A ship that had unfortunately wrecked after a great storm, running aground and ending the lives of all on board.

The dark wood contained knots upon knots that all seemed to have a different story, or saw a different piece of existence. But when Harry looked down the hallway, there was nothing but darkness that seemed stretch endlessly. The walls lined with portraits of important people, though Harry felt as though their eyes were following him, and when he gazed upon them he would swear he saw them moving, shifting to follow him. This was no illusion. This was real.

His palms pressing into the carpet, Harry forced himself to a standing position. His legs felt impossibly heavy, each step forward was like trudging through quick sand. A force seemingly pushing downward, an amplified sense of gravity sucking him into the building itself. But he pushed forward, that same voice in his head now felt like a distant memory but still brought him a degree of comfort.

"All alone."

It was another voice, one he did not recognize but one that struck fear into Harry's heart. It raised every hair on the back of his neck and his arms, the crackle of electricity that shot through his nerves put him out of sorts.

"Open the door."

And in the distance of the hallway a bright light shone above a doorway, the sound of the lock turning over in its housing, indicating it would now open with the simple turn of the golden and embossed knob. Everything within Harry told him to turn away, but he couldn't. And even if he could the door that was once behind him was long gone. This was not the same Admin building her remembered, it was somehow transformed into his own personal kind of hell.

But his feet had now lightened, and he was able to move down the hall, but as he moved it felt like it grew and the door stayed the same distance away, no matter how much he walked toward it. The same portraits on the walls repeating, over and over, each time becoming more decayed, more cruel looking, more inhuman.

As he began to turn his head back, his neck was snapped forward and the door was now inches from his face, his hand had been pressed onto the handle. It opened with ease and Harry was pushed through by an unseen hand, the door snapping violently shut behind him.

"All alone in the darkness."

The same voice repeated, but all Harry could see was the expanse of nothingness, brief flashes of light revealed what had once been a classroom, but after a few moments the flashes stopped coming. The temperature dropped and he began to shake for warmth. If he could see, he would have seen his breath. But there was nothing.

"Who's there?!" A frantic Harry cried, but there was nothing to be heard in response. Stepping forward, moving through it, there was no furniture. He felt no blocks in his path, just the darkness closing in on him and the sense of dread and isolating growing exponentially.

And for the longest time there was just that, nothing. Until the same voice, that of a God spoke to him. Though this time he could feel something press against his hear, hot like breath, warm like grazing flesh. "A friend." The voice whispered now, speaking to him and only him. But the tone was not friendly. It struck fear in him. This was no friend.

"Of the flames." It continued as four walls were illuminated, the classroom had returned but now there were flames forming against the base of the walls, crawling upward, grabbing onto fabric and paintings, diagrams and the like. It was just like it was. Just like it was that day. All those years ago. Harry tugged up at his sleeves and revealed the scars of the flame that had touched him when his home had been destroyed, when his parents were taken from him.

"No... not again, it can't..." A hard swallow, a cold sweat, eyes wide with absolute fear and terror. The feeling of warm liquid running down his leg as he knees gave out. "Someone, please, protect me. Help me. Save me." Harry begged, but to no avail. The Goddess of Protection was otherwise occupied. Within moments the room had been consumed and the fires drew closer and closer to Harry, but it seemed so slow.

"You are but the first of many who shall meet Terror." A figure appeared beyond the flame, shrouded by the dancing light and smoke. A soft voice, almost warm and tender. The sound of screams followed as the student was burned alive, leaving nothing but a charred carcass, a sign for those who would find him in the hallowed halls of knowledge.

Out, out brief candle.

[RedKayne]

Breaking News Report #1: "Fallen Stars Ignite Global Mystery"

Broadcast from New York, NY – 7:00 PM

"Good evening, this is Sarah Thompson with Channel 12 News. We bring you an urgent and perplexing report on a series of inexplicable phenomena occurring worldwide. Over the past 48 hours, the night skies have been ablaze with countless falling stars—celestial bodies, some say, unlike anything we've seen before.

"Astronomers initially classified these as meteor showers, but experts from global observatories are now questioning their origins. Witnesses describe them not as meteors but as lights with distinct, almost human-like forms descending to Earth. Reports are flooding in from every continent, each detailing sudden impacts in isolated regions, cities, and even ocean depths.

"As scientists scramble for answers, people worldwide are growing increasingly uneasy. Speculation runs rampant, with some claiming these ‘stars’ may have supernatural origins. Religious leaders are calling this event a celestial reckoning; others suggest an apocalyptic warning. Regardless of the explanation, these ‘falling stars’ have seized humanity’s attention—and fear—as we all wonder what, or who, might be coming."

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Viewer Discretion Advised: Russian Journalists Killed in Attack by “Fallen Star”

December 23, 2013 - 4:30 AM MSK

Tonight, a harrowing broadcast from Moscow has sent shockwaves across Russia and the world. What began as a routine investigation of the mysterious “fallen stars” has turned tragic after an incident that ended in bloodshed. In a live broadcast, a team of Russian reporters was attacked and killed by what appeared to be a man of unearthly power. The attacker, resembling a lean figure in his late 20s to early 30s, had striking crimson hair and golden eyes that glowed with a fearsome intensity.

Footage shows the figure brandishing an obsidian spear and wielding what can only be described as dark, shadow-like energy. The darkness emanated from his form, enveloping the area and causing terror among the journalists who scrambled to flee. Despite their efforts, all members of the crew were tragically killed within moments, their screams chillingly captured on camera. The transmission cut off shortly afterward, leaving viewers shocked and horrified.

Officials have yet to confirm the nature of this attacker or whether he is one of the enigmatic “fallen stars.” Local authorities are urging residents to avoid areas where these phenomena have been reported and are considering imposing curfews for public safety. The Kremlin has promised a full investigation and increased military presence in affected areas.

The following is the captured dialogue before the mysterious man begins his slaughter, upon being questioned about the fallen stars.

"Why does it really matter? Why do any of these questions matter to you? Is it for money, perhaps? Or is it to become a symbol, a name that all can recognize? Or maybe you believe that you have some sort of duty to the people, that it is your responsibility and yours alone to inform them of this event because they are sloths bound to office chairs, sofas, and mattresses. But that is hypocritical of me. How could I condemn you for your self-serving curiosity and then ask so many questions of you as well? I apologize for weighing you with my lectures and ideas. Please allow me to free you of those burdens."

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3. Special Report: Military Deploys Secret Weapon—Demigods—Against Fallen Deities in New York City

July 23, 2015 - 10:00 AM EDT

In a last-ditch effort to counter the apocalyptic threat posed by these so-called fallen gods, the United States military has taken a drastic step: deploying a battalion of demigods trained in secret by a classified government program. These elite fighters, selected for their divine parentage and unique abilities, were deployed to New York City this morning, where several powerful deities were reportedly wreaking havoc.

Eyewitnesses describe a battle like none ever seen, with demigods clashing against beings whose power defies human comprehension. The demigods fought valiantly, wielding supernatural abilities with strength and precision; however, within hours, it became clear that even these descendants of the gods were no match. The fallen deities crushed the resistance, leaving New York’s streets in ruins. Tragically, there are reports that none of the demigods survived, casting a somber silence over their final stand.

Without these heroic defenders, humanity is left with no known force capable of withstanding the might of the fallen gods. Governments across the globe are scrambling to regroup, but with these god-like entities descending upon Earth in droves, there may be no one left to save humanity from the cataclysm that looms ever closer.

[Hannelorian]

The morning light crept through the shear curtains, it was dim at first. As the minutes passed and it rose slightly higher into the sky the intensity increased. Two hands emerged from beneath the blanket to shield the young woman's eyes. A sharp inhale followed as her eyes blinked into life. The light and faint warmth calling her back into the realm of consciousness. For the first few moments it felt like everything was normal again. It could be any day, the first day of classes. The last day of classes. Commencement. Convocation. Just... Sunday.

Yes. Sunday. A morning where Cecilia would wake up with the sun, slink out of her bed and meander toward the kitchen where a cup of coffee would be waiting, steaming and perfect. Everything in the world she craved, a simple cup of black coffee. If she focused hard enough she could smell it in the air, even today. After the mug of life giving everything she would lazily make her way to the one thing of value in that shitty apartment. An old Steinway K1 upright piano. The previous tenants didn't want to move it, they couldn't sell it, so she picked the shitty apartment for the piano. A musical composition book sat on the music stand with a pencil at it's foot. From there Cecilia would work as she did every Sunday, on her composition work, her own symphony.

Those days were gone, the sound of distant grumbling had caught up to her. There were five others sharing the shitty apartment. Had Cecilia thought of that yet? That it was a shitty apartment? Had she said it out loud yet? That didn't particularly matter. Bodies were shifting, tossing and turning, breathing and uttering words, phrases, small moans and other indistinct sounds. Sleep was seldom acquired and when it was, it generally proved to be fitful. Most of those who survived it seemed were tormented by nightmares. Hell, it all made sense.

Turning over in bed, Scarlet was the first person that Cecilia laid eyes upon. Her torso rising and falling steadily. Beautiful brown hair tied into a pony tail which had made of a mess of itself overnight. So, that was last night's verdict. It was a random shot on any given night if Scarlet would end up in her own bed or sleeping bag, or in Ayden's. The two seemingly always on the edge of committing to one another. Their constant flirting, occasional arguing. Cecilia had often told Scarlet that she should just do it already. Sleep with him, date him, whatever. End the ride for the rest of the group.

Pressing the palms of her hands into the mattress and sheets Cecilia pushed herself into a seated position. Fingers instinctively moving to rub her eyes, almost as though to confirm that everything before her was real, and that this was just another day in hell. They had only arrived a day or so ago. Most of the apartment building was in shambles, highly abandoned in the year or so since this all began. Most of the town, once touted as a mighty all American college town had been wiped out. Destroyed buildings, death, isolation, desolation even. It was once so vibrant and now a shell. The University itself was several miles away. That was the great truth of Elmwood, it was in fact, buried within the wood. It once seemed so magical, now it seemed... a distant memory.

The feeling of hands stretching out, arms straining into the air caught Cecilia's attention. A soft, almost cooing voice calling out a faint "good morning." Again, it was eerie because it almost felt like something normal. Scarlet's eyes fluttered open, her signature smile returning to her face. The two women were rather opposite from one another in how they comported themselves on a daily basis.

"That remains to be seen." Cecilia said quietly, turning herself to face Scarlet. Scarlet rolled her eyes and similarly pulled herself into a sitting position. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Scarlet chirped, almost entirely too chipper. "You are literally sleeping on my side of the bed." Cecilia retorted but a part of her couldn't help herself to chuckle.

"The boys are still asleep?" Scarlet asked with a yawn, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Bringing herself to a stand, Scarlet stepped toward the door and popped it open, peering outside the living room, where the three men had been stationed on the floor and two old couches. Cecilia having rejected her privilege it seemed, opting for something small that suited her needs. It was odd to see such a humble home environment. Scarlet never really imagined that Cecilia could live like this. She seemed more the type to need a bunch of rooms, added space, all sorts of things.

"Emma is still asleep." Cecilia mentioned with a nod over in the direction of the sleeping young woman on the floor. The youngest of all of them, and the one with a purpose. Looking for Harry. Always wondering about Harry. Neither Scarlet nor Cecilia could blame her, after all, they all had many unanswered questions. What happened to their families or loved ones? Why did Harry suddenly disappear from the group in the middle of the night? Why wouldn't he say anything to Emma? It was one more cruelty the girl had to endure. Unfortunate.

The apartment had been exactly as it was left the last time Cecilia was here. Scarlet and Cooper both had gone over every inch of what remained. There wasn't much that would be of use to them going forward. It was merely a rest stop, a place to rest their head before moving on, and once again Cecilia would leave her life behind, though this time it was a little less sad. You got used to moving on and cutting personal ties to almost anything.

Cooper for his part had been awake for hours, just laying there on the floor, a mess of blankets poured over him, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the time to pass where everyone else might wake up. They had been haunted, terrorized, but none of it seemed... real? Yet it was, and every time he closed his eyes he saw truly awful things. What at first felt like the stars falling from the heavens became a nightmare greater than anyone could imagine. He wanted his camera, long since destroyed. He wanted to capture the sorrow and the heartbreak he had witnessed that he had felt. The sound of the others sleeping was almost reassuring. They were alive. They were still present.

Everything in this place screamed a stranger. None of it matched Cecilia. But strangely there was still the faint smell that reminded Cooper of her. It stood out against the smell of death and decay... of a world that remained in absolute chaos. It was just a little further. Perhaps there they would find refuge, or answers, or some of those they had left behind so long ago.

One could only hope.