Author’s note: Do not get mad about short or confusing this section of the story is. Think of it as the bridge in a song. They never fit in with the rest of the piece, but you find out why it was put there when you finish listening to the song. G’nite and good reading!

Alone, in a cavern of darkness, sat a man.
     He was Malek of Coorhagen, the prosperous city. It had once been the throne from which the solitary land of Nosgoth was ruled, but now, as his birthplace and its inhabitants corrupted both morally and manifest, he held his sanity in the land of the ancienne.
     The angels – otherwise known as the Seraphim – that had forged this world were now hidden in a complex labyrinth buried under the city of Cherynokia, which was even collapsing on top of itself, swaying like a dead man’s last minute under the pressure of the Lake of the Dead. But then again, that was a child’s fable, the story of Ginnoci and Mikryo. The real legend explained that any creatures of the twelve sefiroths were actually …organic structures of knowledge and power, and that a mortal would perceive them as whatever they expected to see.
     But in that labyrinth of pain and sorrow sat the audacious creator of a small cult named the Sarafan. He had come here to try and receive assistance from the true and complete Authority, Yahweh. 
     And out the darkness came a voice.  The fanatic closed his eyes and kneeled, not knowing what to expect.

As fast as the currents of time that he controlled, Moebius jumped out from the shadowy void that was the cavern of sefer-Ancienne and attacked the man who would one day be the creator of the new, and the destroyer of his own dream become manifest.
     The man’s eyes opened, not registering any emotion but shock.
     “Are you the Authority?” asked Malek in an extremely bewildered, yet inquisitive tone. And so he would receive the answer that he deserved. 
    Archmage of Time, and member of the Circle of Nine, Moebius, spoke, “Nov, and neither will you find him here, peasant! He does not exist, and never has!”
    And then, out of the corrupted shadows, came a blinding light. It had a transitory effect of supremacy on both of the men in the room, but then Moebius disappeared.

 The temple suddenly became as silent as death when the true form of the Ethros demon emerged from the utterly mutilated wrack of flesh that had once served as a Nakuragami dark priest. Kain watched on as his true creator paced the floor in front of him.
     “Hash’a-a-ak’gi-ik?” asked the cowering vampire lord.
     And suddenly tendrils of shadow surrounded the demon in a living, writhing mass of pure and absolute evil. Suddenly, off a ledge – proving this chamber to be nothing but a giant crevasse – came one of the destroyers of hope, Moebius, the one who had manipulated even the manipulator of Kain and his death. It had all been an elaborate mess interwoven with lies, deceit, and the streaming of eternity.
     “Why have you done this bastard?! Is it that you did not have enough pleasure torturing me in the spectral realm?”
     “No whelp, it is for reasons that you could never understand…”

 Sitting on the throne of the Authority was a single man dressed in robes, blackness covering his face. He watched the two auras in front of him, as intent and solemn as a sea serpent watching his prey.
     At the flicker of his eyelid, one of the pictured melted into oblivion, and the other slowly faded away.
     The robed man suddenly let out a laugh that reached throughout all planes of existence, so powerful that the smallest mite could hear it, and so evil that even the bravest warrior trembled.