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Moira Morley

[Lost Expeditions] The Demonweb Pits

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There are very few people at Claremont aware about the danger that the Totality imposes. There are probably fewer or none who know that the Yellow Sign are using the eclipse's weakening of The Pact to summon their maddening god. Right now, the moon is about to crossover the sun. Even though it's only 70-something percent in New Jersey. Ah, the opportunists. Though some students may be occupied by it, some are not. Erebo, the living darkness. Salvo, the genius machine girl. Gauss, the master of magnet. These three students are taking it easy today. Are they watching the three quarter eclipse?

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The boy who was touched by the Deep Darkness stood on the campus highest roof, watching the sky intently while filtering the sun's pestering rays with his own shroud of blackness, which was rising in plumes of void from all over his body.

 

Normally, he wouldn't care for such an incomolete phenomenon as a 70% eclipse, but somehow his power was pushing him towards it: was it because in those few moments, the Dark would have a tighter grasp than what it normally does on this little azure marble of ours? He did not know, nor did he really care, he was beginning to understand the mechanisms of the ebb and flow of the Dark's influece on his mind: he had to give in to grasp it better, at least for a time, so he mmight as well do it now, when it was harmless. 

 

He pursed his lips, gazing upward.

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What did one care about an eclipse?

 

That was the question hanging from Nicole's mind as she brushed a jagged line across the canvas. There were many things, least of which was the curiosity most of the mundane world afforded it. It was a pity of course, there was so much more beneath the surface. Magic was her primary concern in that matter; darkness such an apt term for the most primal of fears. Cold and unfeeling, or perhaps it felt, craved to eat and feast upon the blind in the night? That was what the darkness was since humanity huddled around their campfires, trying to ward of the predators that lurked at the edges of their camp.

 

Tigers, wolves. Demons and devils. Bandits or invaders.

 

It rarely mattered in the end. They were one and the same as far as those who preferred the light cared.

 

No wonder then that soon eclipses became a portend of calamity, for the power to blot out the sun was great and terrible, and the mages of old used such fear to weave dark magics. Most people would look at her odd for thinking such things about a natural phenomena.

 

She pursed her lips. Most people were outside, watching the moon as if it were something special. But she opted to stay indoors, in one of the art rooms that dotted the building. She had a tablet open, showing videos in many angles of the eclipse and the students watching it, TV monitor style. And she painted what she saw, put thoughts into color and figures, and perhaps people had a point.

 

She backed away and looked at her still wet canvas with appraising eyes. Dark and foreboding, and terrible in all its vicious beauty. The students flitted to and fro an orb filled with the echoes of the dead and yet-to-die and their gazes fell upon and beside each other, knowing the secrets they held, and melting into something they should not be.

 

Ugh. She was supposed to be past that teenage stage.

Edited by Zeitgeist Blue

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