Distant tales of the Dichotomy

When Fel awoke, he found himself in a dark and gloomy room consisting only of wet black bricks, a leaky window with bars much too high to reach, and a solid wooden door marked with a crow holding a crown in one claw and a dagger in the other. He had nothing on him but the clothes he was wearing. He touched his pockets frantically, but before he had even a second to understand his surroundings, he heard a deafening knock on the door. As he lifted his head, a voice screamed:

“Wake up! You have been summoned by His Majesty, the supreme ruler of the three realms, high king of Arboritia and tyrant of Sorrows. Make haste or suffer the consequences!”

Confused and in a daze, Fel stumbled toward the door as a feeling of anxiety and hatred rose in his heart. To his surprise, the door, although heavy, was unlocked and slowly creaked open as Fel pushed it with all his might. Beyond it was a grand and vast reception hall with tables and pillars surrounded by torches. However you looked at it, the place resembled a dining hall, the only difference being the multiple doors lining its walls. Fel tried to count them, but they far exceeded the usual number. Many children and young adults sat at the tables, but none uttered a word. They just waited, staring aimlessly at the table in front of them.

“I told you to hurry, didn’t I, boy? Do not make me repeat myself, or you won’t be around to hear it a third time.”

Above him stood a lizard-man with a halberd on his back the size of two men. Shocked by fear, Fel felt his legs give out beneath him, and he sank to the floor. Realizing what had happened, Fel quickly stood back up and began to follow the lizard-man, who was already a few steps ahead. Soon they arrived at a black door with silver lining, so tall that it dwarfed the giant beside him. Before the lizard-man could reach it, the door began to open on its own, revealing a hall filled with beautiful paintings and objects completely unknown to Fel. He also saw giant suits of armor that looked as if they could fit even a Goliath, but thankfully they were all empty.

After turning multiple corners and climbing more stairs than he could count, they finally arrived at their destination. This time, a black-and-golden door awaited them. The lizard-man lifted his right hand above his head, palm facing behind him, put his right knee on the ground, and began to chant in a loud, clear voice:

“His Majesty and dark liege, supreme ruler of the three realms, high king of Arboritia and tyrant of Sorrows, forgive us, for we are but mere mortals. Bless us with the enlightenment that is your presence as we venture into your hall.”

The man closed his hand into a fist and slammed it against the ground, making the whole room shiver. Then, as if by magic, the door opened, and Fel was hit with an aura unlike anything he had ever felt. He began vomiting and gasping for breath, unable to take a single step forward. He knelt, facing the ground, and soon heard another voice, this time a woman’s. It sounded elegant yet filled with dread, and each word struck his soul directly.

“You are now in the presence of the one who stands above all, His great and powerful Excellency, the one and only Emperor Rainord Ortumocorvis, supreme ruler of the three realms, high king of Arboritia and tyrant of Sorrows. Kneel, for he is about to speak the words of gods to you, mere mortals.”

As Fel lifted his head, he saw her. She was beautiful, but at a glance Fel could tell she was definitely not human. She had piercing red eyes burning a deep scarlet that glowed even brighter beneath her paper-white hair. She was dressed in charcoal-colored armor that gleamed exactly like Falling Star. Only her tail protruded from it, and it was more like a whip with knives attached than a tail, to be honest. Fel’s gaze wandered around the room and settled on a huge, majestic curtain made of what seemed to be only the finest materials, white satin with gold lining, covering the throne at the end of the room. Then Fel heard a voice deeper and more vile than any he had ever heard, as if a storm had picked up a stack of swords and smashed them together.