#anharv

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTomes were scattered around the room, most remained seemingly untouched while others had pages ripped and corrections written over information he'd realized to be outdated. Inky symbols covered the walls and floor, taken from those notes, a type of language that had no business existing outside of the Fifth Circle or Wrath's mind -- he wove knowledge from different sources, different worlds.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤGehenna, Simon's Lucifer, Lux, Diniel's deceased rival. ㅤㅤㅤㅤThese had shed light on which path would take the Archdemon to his chosen destiny.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe set up was typical. One candle stood lit by the bed, it illuminated the upper half of the body he'd preserved and highlighted the familiar sigils inscribed on the walls. Although the fire danced and tried to lick at the sheets, its purple color hinted at it not being the type of flame that'd bring trouble to his works.

"To create life, you need power of which you have plenty." Gehenna’s voice replayed distant in his head as he called back for the memory of their encounter. His eye closed, hand gripping tighter around the handle of the bone dagger he'd made specially for that. "For you and I, we have enough raw power to spare. For us, there is no order to giving life. It requires a spark of chaos."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤA spark of chaos.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤHe flicked the tip of the dagger across his left hand. "But we can't have too much chaos or it falls apart. We need to give it enough to allow flexibility, to adapt and evolve. That is determined on your will." Droplets of blood began pooling on his palm threatening to run along the creases of his hand, but they never did. They stayed put, as determined on his will, and solidified into tiny specks, purple dust that glinted against the light from the candle.

" [...] We found out that was soon as you stop feeding it energy, it falls apart. So right now, we're trying to find a way to connect that soul into this plane and ensure it can exist on its own."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤWrath's neutral expression faded into the sharpest grin he could sport. The gap in his best friend's work had been filled, he had, at last, an answer to that --  for he had enough raw power to spare. And said power had manifested into the life source he held in the palm of his own hand in that moment. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤWhen he finally opened his eye, it happened exactly as foretold. He'd never seen Gloria Patri's ritual rooms before, but, having undergone its esoteric trials, it was no surprise he'd recognize its dense energy engulfing him.

"So, ya've done it. Congrats." Everything in that image was recognizable. From the glowing and predatory purple of its eyes, to the grin that mirrored his own and, finally, to his exact form. It was like looking in the mirror, if reflections could behave on their own. “Now, ya can complete it.”