Chapter 51

Wil forced his hand deeper into the soft soil. Drawing more intensely on his Pact with Erebus, he pulled on her divinity, wrapping the ravenous void in a thick barrier. The swirling vortex sought to devour everything, and even with the power of the Black Moon, it could barely be contained.

He needed to forge it into an object, a container capable of harnessing it. A god needed a throne, a manifestation of their power in reality. For Wil, his throne would be small, and at its center, the void.

Screaming, he held on, as waves of mana lifted large chunks of ground, hurling them skyward. All around him, he could feel Erebus’s presence. The first step was to forge the container, before he lost control of the void.

Secundus fell to the ground, unable to maintain her balance while the moon rocked around her. Digging her hands into the soft soil for support, she watched in awe as lines of black soil began to creep towards Wil’s buried hand.

The wind howled and the ground shook as more and more of the soil swept towards the buried void, consuming the blackness around them. Focusing, Wil used the material to cover the void, enhancing the barrier.

Cracks appeared in the moon’s surface, vast rifts that crisscrossed its exterior. In the distance, a single speck of white ground slowly emerged.

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Annabelle Quentin stood with the others outside of the Brookmoor estate. Beside her, Serena sat on the grass, wrapped tightly in one of Wil’s old cloaks. Quentin had been as shocked as the others by the changes in the young girl. Whatever Wil had done, she was truly his daughter now, even Markus had recognized her, welcoming his niece into the family.

Her Tiefling heritage was gone, replaced with Brookmoor features. Quentin couldn’t fault him for doing what he did, not with the threat her ancestor’s Pact had brought them. No one wanted her to go through that again.

They had been called out into the Night by Kellerman, the first to notice the intense changes occurring in the Black Moon. They had watched, transfixed, as the tar covering the shattered moon’s surface disappeared, drawn to a single point, and removed.

Serena had said that she felt Wil’s presence there, a faint echo of his mana, something that Astrid had confirmed. Quentin hadn’t felt a thing, only terrified for her missing companion. Wil’s absence could only mean that he was likely up there, fighting once more to protect them.

“Look out!” Garman yelled, waking Quentin from her reverie as another earthquake shook the ground. They had been nearly constant during the tar’s removal, and they had thought the worst over.

“It’s Wil!” Serena yelled, pointing at the moon. Undulations could be seen on its surface, the ground moving, ripples spreading across it like ocean waves. In the center, where the ripples began, a shining white light erupted, drawing the blackness towards it.

“What in the nine hells is Junior doing up there!” Garman cursed, reaching out to grip the manor house to steady himself.

Whatever it was, Quentin prayed that he was alright.

“Please, return to us, Wil.” She whispered, watching as another wave shook the moon, cracks appearing on the surface.

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Wil gripped the buried object with both hands, pulling with all his strength in an attempt to remove it from the ground. It was as if he were trying to lift the entire moon. He couldn’t move it an inch, it took all of his might to simply hold on, to not lose it to the forces fighting him.

The Black Moon was being ripped asunder, his attempt to contain the swirling void of devouring energy was stripping Erebus of her power. With a scream, Wil stumbled to one knee, his hands bloody from the conflict. The shard of divinity was a link to Erebus, he was merely a conduit.

In the distance, half of the Black Moon was irrevocably changed, the object drawing the darkness into itself, leaving the moon’s surface stripped clean, white, purified, and lifeless.

Another undulation shook the ground, a ripple spreading into the horizon, carrying more of Erebus’s black mana back to Wil, and the object he was forging beneath the surface.

He just had to hold on.

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Secundus watched, horrified, as another shockwave tore through the moon. Wil’s screaming was agonizing to hear. She was helpless to assist, the hungry void that he had tore from his body was appalling, its power capable of devouring everything and leaving nothing behind.

As it was, he was the only being capable of controlling it, using his tenuous connection to the object to contain its hunger.

She rolled as the ground bucked beneath her, it felt as if the entire moon dropped from the sky, before catching itself. Beside her, Erebus was unconscious, the power Wil was drawing on was hers, used to suppress the void.

Secundus could see that in the distance, a wave of white was slowly creeping towards them. The Black Moon was dying, Erebus’s dark power being drained away, leaving a husk behind. She could only hope that whatever Wil was doing would work, before it doomed them all.

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Waves of darkness crashed against him, funnelling into the object he gripped in both hands. He could feel it solidify, the void within weakening. The connection between them was growing stronger, like it was a part of him, a new limb.

He screamed as another wave of agony passed through his body. His connection to Erebus meant that as she weakened, so did the link between them. He was relying on his own body to bear this burden, to forge an item of incalculable power. It would be his throne, containing his divinity. As the Black Moon died, he was being reborn.

But the cost was a pain so great that he didn’t think he could bear it. His mortal body was dying, destroyed piece by piece, reforged into a divinity by the same process he was using to contain the void. It would be the source of his new strength, one that belonged to only him, unconnected to gods, devils or dragons.

He simply had to hold on, despite his body being ripped apart. He gripped the hilt of the item, he knew what it was now, and pulled. His muscles strained, blood ran down his arms, his jaw ached from gritting his teeth. He thought of everyone he sought to protect, the world that hung in the darkness below him, and drew the weapon from the ground!

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Secundus couldn’t believe a mortal could persist in such a manner. Despite his injuries, the clear agony of what he was doing, Wil held on. She could see the strain as he pulled, screaming through blood-stained lips.

The Moon, no longer black, was dyed white, the floating corpse of Erebus’s once divine throne. It was the ivory white of bleached bones, all the divinity drained into whatever object Wil was forging. The now white Moon rocked once more, groaning as large cracks spread from where Wil stood.

She could feel the Mana swirling around him. It was no longer borrowed from Erebus, or stolen from others, but truly his.

With a final scream, Wil pulled an object from the white soil, both hands gripping a black hilt. Soil clung to it stubbornly for a moment, before releasing. With a final heave of strength, he lifted it out of the soil, raising it aloft.

It was a sword, its hilt long enough for Wil to grip it with two hands. The blade was pure black, an accumulation of the Black Moon. Secundus could see streaks and specks of crimson and gold in the metal, subtle marks of Wil’s Draconic Bloodline and Devilish Heritage.

The sword was single edged, slightly curved and nearly as long as Wil was tall. It was a beautiful and noble looking weapon, perfectly suited to his appearance. But it wasn’t the look of the blade that filled Secundus with dread. It was the feeling it gave.

The sword hungered, the devouring void inside it sought to escape, to feed. It was as if Wil was holding a starving beast, eager to be unleashed upon the world.

“Wil, what have you created?” Secundus whispered, shivering at the sight of the black sword.