The owner of the underworld becomes angry when his daughter is taken from him and brought back to the world of the living. He sends his henchmen to make sure she is retrieved
The Unnamed One pace back and forth on the charred ground.
Tiny streams of lava caress his foot, though he is not burned. He is already dead; the only pain felt is for his daughter. That pain, however, will end soon. His daughter is personally visiting him that evening.
The Unnamed One has no flesh. His bones are whiter than the teeth he once had, kept clean and polished by the cleansing steam of the red and orange, ever-burning fires of the underworld; his eyes blacker than the blank sockets they used to fill. He is physically blind, but he doesn’t require physical sight to see the souls he holds dominion over. Heisthe underworld. Many centuries ago he created the abyss; he knows everything that transpires underneath the ground.
“Amidael,” he yells through solid, unmoving lips. The sound seems to emanate from within his soul. It fills the large cavern.
Amidael appears in a burst of flame and smoke that remains for a short while after he strides to his master’s side. The priest’s robes are silver and red, and he carries a staff. It ends with an orb that glows bright, orange with fire. His face is that of a deceased feline; his eyes are a darker red than his robe. Amidael had been burned at the stake as a heretic many centuries ago for speaking out against the other priests.
“Where is my daughter?” The Unnamed One spoke impatiently.
“Actually, master, your daughter is on her way as we speak. I was going to fetch her from the steps when you summoned.”
As if on cue, The Unnamed One sensed an additional soul that hadn’t been there a moment before. The figure of a female appeared at the end of the large cavern that was The Unnamed One’s throne room, following a lesser shade. It took her a while to arrive at her father’s feet, passing by the writhing souls and stepping over the burning pools of lava that she not yet knew wouldn’t harm her, but the Unnamed One finally said, “Daughter, it’s been so long since I last laid eyes on you.”
“It’s been a long time since you last had eyes,” she said jokingly.
The girl’s brown hair flowed wonderfully to her shoulders. Her form was hidden beneath the simple black robe given to her upon her entrance to the underworld; clothes did not follow a dead soul from the surface to the abyss. The material clothes of the world did not stay on ethereal bodies with no substance.
Not being able to hold it anymore, she broke into tears and ran to embrace the skeleton in front of her. The coldness of his bones chilled her to her own frame, but she did not mind it. She would force herself to get used to it. “Father,” she cried.
Backing away, she saw her father wave the lesser shade away.
“Tell me how it happened. How was it that you finally came within my domain?” the Unnamed One questioned.
“I got into a fight with another kid from my class. At first it started with fists and kicks, but eventually he grew angry that he was gaining no headway and blindsided me with the swipe of a knife. As I fell to the ground, I saw him flee the scene with a horrid look on his face. I perished before help arrived.”
There was no emotion on The Unnamed One’s face as he quietly seethed in anger. While he was happy to finally have his daughter close, “Well, at least we are finally together.” As he stared into his daughter’s eyes, he saw her slowly fade away. He reached out to grab her, knowing he wouldn’t be able to touch her anyway, but she disappeared completely. “Amidael, what happened?” he questioned, although he knew perfectly well what had just transpired.
His daughter was being called back to the surface, back to the living.
The corrupted priest began to answer when the Unnamed One waved him away. “Never mind,” he hissed. “Do you really think I don’t know what just happened? The only way my daughter could have returned to the surface was through the dealings of a necromancer. Order two search parties; one for my daughter and the remaining for the perpetrator of this magic. Bring them both to me.” He rose hastily from his perch on the large black-and-deep blood-red throne and strode from the large cavern quickly. Amidael was left by himself. Stepping forward, he addressed the assembly of shades before him.
Amidael knew the only way for his daughter to join him was if the necromancer was killed. The Unnamed One’s daughter was now tied to the material world by more than just the restrung strings of her own life.