Amidst a turbulent sea of midnight waves a verdant island jutted out in defiance. Wondrous architecture along the coastal regions had long turned to ruin, but a hint of their divinity remained. This was one of the few truly sacred places left, where the eldest of the titanic beings from across the known realms once gathered. Its progenitors had long been lost to time, scattered beyond the far reaches, these fading relics the last evidence of their ever having been. 

It is here, in this place between places, that the lesser divines huddle together like children sheltering in the storm. The tides of the dark ocean sought to consume, and in time even this ancient bastion would be pulled into its shadowy depths. 

“It is decreed.” a seemingly ageless woman pronounced, her words reverberating throughout the diminished hall with divine authority “None shall perform any miracles or divine acts without the council’s approval”. 

“So it is witnessed” echoed the collection of enigmatic gods surrounding the raised dais. The severity of what had been demanded was unprecedented, yet it was necessary. The dwindling divinity permeating the realms could not make up for their wasteful whims in the face of a rising tide. 

“Spread word to the lesser planes” She uttered in solemnity “we have left the era of plenty, now is the time for prudence-” 

“My lady” one of her more perceptive advisors stood suddenly “something is coming, a fiend that stinks of the abyss.” 

From the depths the figure of a humanoid demonkin breached the dark waves and soon came to a stop along the shore. His empowered form was tall and broad, suited to war, and yet his dark eyes shone with intelligence. Most of those present at the godly conclave regarded him with unconcealed hatred, waiting for word from the Lady to smite the infiltrator. No demon had dared approach the Heavenly Isle before, it appeared the day's events would only continue to upend historic convention.

“Speak demon” the divine mistress commanded “are you a herald for the coming tide?”

“I am not, dear Lady of light.” The corner of his mouth upturned in amusement as his basso inflection echoed over the din “I am your salvation.” 

The gathered divines did not find that amusing, a few even moved to take action while others jeered on disdainfully.

“Restrain yourselves” Their Lady spoke out with authority over the distressed bickering that was born from his proclamation. Turning an intense gaze upon the demon she spoke again “Explain yourself deep dweller, who are you to make such a claim?”

Many of those at the conclave had never seen the greater demonkin of the deep, let alone been approached in their divine territory by one. Interestingly, he took a moment for the outliers to regain their composure before he began. 

“In truth, I was once nothing more than a tool to be used.” He intoned with a firm expression, “An experimental weapon of war bred under the gaze of a great and terrible sovereign of the abyss. Such is the way for many of my kind.” Gradually the ghost of a smirk played at his lips, “However, the deep places are filled with powers far eclipsing that of my former master. He met his end on the dark altar of an eldritch abomination that deceived him with proffered power. In the ages since, I have seen many fall to similar temptations. You ask who I am? I am far more than I once was, more than my heritage would have you believe. I am the unorthodox, he who will break the pattern. I am the pilgrim, he who travels the realms beyond for answers to questions yet asked. I am the artisan, he who has perfected a thousand crafts. Most relevant to you, I am also the diplomat who parlays with unlikely allies. Even now I see your hatred and distrust on display, but how certain are you to cling to your ways when I bring before you the solution to a problem you have long faced? A way to quell the advancing tide, the single greatest bane to your divine realm, once and for all?”

The open hostility various members of the conclave held for the demon was undermined by the impact of his words. The Lady herself kept a wary front, but somewhere beneath the skepticism a fading ember of hope gained new life. 

“How would you accomplish this?” She muttered “and more importantly, what price would you ask of us?” 

The demon smiled with feigned benevolence, a look contrasted by the reveal of rather sinister fangs. “As I have said I am an artisan among other things. Let it be known that certain applications of my craft may yet allow us the possibility of a… mutually beneficial arrangement. I bring with me a number of artifacts forged with the essence of the void, which while complex in nature are rather simple in application. These particular artifacts are not for your use, but for the mortal races you lord over. They are designed to link to their otherwise isolated soulspaces and allow them to accumulate null energy, similar to what flows throughout the abyss. Individually, they will begin to siphon it into their soulspace to great effect. On the scale of your entire domain? It would work against the currents eating away at the edge of your realm, diverting the flow to my creations instead.” He paused momentarily to let the implications sink in before continuing. “In essence the mortal races will serve as a reservoir for that power, knowingly or not. What they use it for is inconsequential, prosperity or war, all that matters is that it will amass within them instead of the abyss. No longer will you look across your realm at the rising tide and fear for your ancient territory.”

From his palm appeared a number of glowing runic symbols radiating abyssal energy, they shot into the air and swirled in a growing cloud. Many of the gathered divines had to subvert their gazes, for seeking insights into the strange phenomenon strained their naturally opposing senses. With a simple gesture the eldritch runes were transmuted into a more stable form, taking on the appearance of slim cards covered in a vast range of symbolic imagery and glyphs.

“How do you stand to benefit from this?” The Lady insisted, refusing to gawk at the fascinating display. While she knew more about the demonkin races of the deep than most, she’d never suspect one could have been so skilled in pure arcane creation.  

The demon’s gaze sharpened and something unspoken passed between him and the divine council. A few suppressed startled remarks as he began sharing a shadowy vision with them. 

It was a vision of war in the abyss, innumerable creatures of wretched origin swarmed a battlefield of lifeless craggy protrusions. On a ridge stood the demon himself accompanied by a few of the mortal races the gods recognized from the lesser planes of their domain. Their diminutive figures were all poised and ready, but would no doubt be woefully unequipped to hold back the wave of grotesque creatures for very long. 

Moments before their ranks clashed the mortals unveiled some impressive auras, as one they rushed into the tide and unleashed absolute chaos. The destruction unveiled wasn’t beyond divine capabilities but to see mere mortals channeling such powerful attacks that cut through the monstrous swarm was astonishing;. The manifestations of their powers were as fascinating as they were varied, speaking to certain distinctions among the demon’s artifacts.

Either way the implication was clear, he foresaw that his creations would work to great effect. His price was that he intended to keep a number of powerful mortals as soldiers, servants, and possibly supplicants for his cause. A disconcerting notion, but one that presented another opportunity. 

If his creations worked as proposed not only would the tide cease to encroach upon their domain, they would be preemptively dealing with threats from the deep by allowing a portion of abyss-tainted mortals to fight under this demon’s banner. With the caveat that those who underwent such a transition weren’t a threat to the domain itself, it was… agreeable.

The Lady looked between the talismans and the demonic figure before her, coming to an uneasy conclusion. Looking around at her lesser council members confirmed the sentiment was mostly shared. The effects of this deal would be far reaching for both mortal and divine. It was certain to be a tumultuous era. 

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“On your power, demon.” The Lady addressed the demon with finality. “Swear you shall do all that you have shown us; Nothing more, nothing less. Only then will we consider releasing the prospective mortals into your service. The authority of the Heavenly Isle will not be undermined.”

“So it shall be.” The demon whisked the artifacts toward the highest point of the conclave, meanwhile the Lady matched his gaze until the weight of the oath settled onto both of them. The demonkin grit his teeth and hid his unease as wisps of divine energy rose from the dais the Lady sat upon and dug into his flesh like chains before dissipating. It appeared she still had some measure of influence over the crumbling domain after all. He would have to be wary of her subverting his plans in the future, but for now the oath would stand.

“It is decreed.” She proclaimed with renewed vigor “The council shall devise a method to distribute these talismans to the mortal races so that they may hold back the abyssal tide.”

“So it is witnessed” came the subdued voices of the conclave. The outliers among them could not afford to stand on principle with the entire council entertaining this scheme. Though neither would any contend that they had the necessary power to bind a greater demon to an oath. The times ahead were uncertain, indeed.

Since the godlings couldn’t hope to tamper with the fundamental aspects of his creations, the demon had allowed them the illusion of control in whatever system they devised to distribute them. It mattered little, soon he would have his army; and much, much more. 

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James was jostled awake by the midnight train rumbling along the tracks, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. With unsteady hands he wiped his face and laid back down, his thoughts lost amidst the rhythmic cacophony. The combination of the thin walls and proximity to the railway made it impossible to ignore. The remnants of a strange dream played at the edges of his mind but nothing that he could make much sense of. 

Finally the last of the train rolled by, its passing becoming a distant echo in the night. Other sounds came back to the forefront. The muffled TV from an upstairs apartment, a feral cat yowling in the alley below, and even his neighbor’s angry exclamations next door.

Sighing heavily James took to his feet and walked to his kitchen. The contents of his fridge were dismal, so he just finished off a carton of orange juice and paced over to his desk. Sprawled about were various papers relating to his semester workload and a laptop with a screensaver currently cycling through some old family photos. Mostly they were images of him and his dad on some isolated excursions into the wilderness, his mother having passed too soon to join them. His dad followed a few short years later, and now these photos were all he had left.

Grim thoughts sometimes came unbidden when he gazed upon them. James had tried to avoid thinking like that, people died every day, but his parents were such pure individuals. One a beloved teacher, the other a physician, both public servants to the day they died. It wasn’t fair that they were taken from the world so soon. They should’ve been there to see him finish school, to find his purpose in the world, and eventually start a new chapter in the family while they retired in peace. Now he was alone, that dream forever unfulfilled. 

He sat heavily on the cheap sofa in the living room and flicked on the TV. Some cooking show was on and the contestants were trying not to embarrass themselves in the face of a professional chef. It was familiar, so he zoned out and watched the chaotic progression of events until he heard a shrill scream that was definitely not a part of the program.

Goosebumps trailed down his arms and he was suddenly very much awake despite the late hour. Clipped shouts were emanating through the thinly insulated walls from his neighbors apartment. He wasn’t surprised since that greasy prick had shouting matches late into the night before, but this was different. Muffled thumps and groans could be heard strewn into the conflict, so he could only assume it had escalated physically. This was definitely new, and distinctly concerning. 

Hoping he didn’t regret involving himself, he hopped up and eased the front door open on his way to find out what the hell was going on. The layout of the building used a central stairwell, so he was knocking on his neighbors door within seconds of walking out of his own.

The sounds within quieted for a moment, confirming it was the right place, and his neighbor's drunken speech sounded out. “Fuck off, everything’s fine in here.”, only for sounds of a physical struggle to resume. All thoughts of just walking away and making a formal report died when a strangled cry for help could be heard through the door.

James stepped back and kicked as hard as he could against where the lock was attached to the door frame. The old steel lock survived the blow, but the weakened frame cracked. With another push the door swung inward to reveal a mirror layout of James’ apartment. On the floor by the kitchen his rather rotund and obviously intoxicated neighbor was hunched over another person, their figure barely visible in the dingy lighting. 

“What the fuc-” His neighbor didn’t have time to finish the thought before the person under him slammed their knee against his stomach and he backed off to catch his breath. 

Before he could, James strode forward and pulled him away from the prone figure who turned out to be a teenage boy that he recognized as another resident of the building. His name was David and his frantic eyes were rimmed with tears as he met James’ surprised gaze. 

“End that fucking bastard” David wheezed. That was when he noticed the boy’s heavily marred neck, no doubt a product of being forcefully choked and smothered by the larger man. 

Without thinking James’ suddenly launched himself at the scumbag, who still was struggling to his feet since his pants were hanging low. The two of them tumbled down to the floor, the angry drunk trying to ward him off with uncoordinated swings. James dodged the worst of them and rained down blow after blow of his own, lulled into a trance of violence that he couldn’t shake. Only when his hands were smattered in crimson flecks and the vile bastard lost most of the fight in him, did James finally relent. 

That was when he looked back up to David’s form on the kitchen floor, eerily still. His eyes were open but the faint rasping and wheezing sounds had abated. Initially James had been worried about his airway being compromised, but the fluids pooling beneath him from a previously concealed head wound represented a more severe injury. 

“David” James called out weakly to the boy, “David are you-” his voice failed him as he beheld the unmoving figure. 

James quickly stumbled over his neighbor and grabbed a wad of dish rags off the nearby counter and returned to plaster them over the wound so they could reduce the blood flow. It was messy and only partially effective, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying.

His movements felt mechanical and distant, it was as if he was observing this moment play out from the half-asleep state he had been in earlier. At some point numb fingers grasped his phone to dial emergency services, unconcerned with the trailing blood left behind.

James didn’t even register what was said over the course of the call, holding David’s vacant gaze throughout. Someone was coming, someone had to come to make things right.

Meanwhile his putrid neighbor babbled off some rather vile threats in his dazed state, though sounds of another train approaching promised to drown him out in its passing. The rhythmic cacophony had again returned, the walls shuddered in response.

How was it that good people like his parents, or like young David, had to leave this world behind only for filth like this to remain? It was so utterly backwards. So fundamentally wrong, and James realized there was little likelihood the scales would be truly balanced. He stumbled forward and leaned over the pathetic excuse for a man for perhaps the last time.

Two steady hands reached out and pressed into the prone man’s throat, pinning him against the worn floorboards. The halfway-coherent jeering had at some point transitioned to noises of struggle and desperation, lost to the thrumming vibrations which reached a crescendo. The earth itself was shifting and quaking in fury. Eyes that had been shrouded in a drunken haze found themselves lucid for the briefest moment and locked with James’. Only bitterness and depravity met his gaze; and like a candle under a harsh gale, was promptly snuffed out.

In mere moments, silence reigned again. 

For too long James found himself staring down at the price of his decision to intervene on this night. Any feelings of guilt, grief, or regret were reduced to static in the back of his mind. Undeniably this had been a point of no return, he knew what he was capable of in a way he’d never truly known before. Perhaps the part of James that should have been sacred and ashamed had been the final casualty of the night. 

A shadow flitting across the periphery of the room stole his attention, forcing him to break away from his dark musings. No, not a shadow but a slim prism of midnight crystal floating on an intangible breeze. It drifted before him, rotating about a central axis while ornate carvings writhed across its glassy surface as if alive. 

One face revealed a string of small runic inscriptions James couldn’t decipher, The other contained a depiction of a lone cloaked figure amidst a desolate field of bones and ruin. While its purpose was yet unknown, what it represented couldn’t have been more clear.

“Death.”