INITIATION
INITIATION
The induction methods of a mighty cult from a world afar
High above the Plains of Oc’tl, deep in the crags of the Forbidden Mountains, the initiate clambered into the lair of his ungodly idols, the dreaded Cult of the Sunless. The cavern walls were dank and cluttered with the effigies of demigods and hideous cacodemons, their only veneration satiated by the blood shed in the course of battle. Their grizzly weapons, hammered and wedged into the ebony rock, epitomized their ancient practicians of warfare, showing no mercy for those felled by their sword. To be among those chosen for the rite of passage was an honor unparalleled by the blessings of any top-tier aristocrat.
The Great Serpent, in all his glory, was equally praised and feared in how he laid waste to the Cht’lan colony in a single blast of energy. The initiate remembered hearing about it from the vine of his ranks. No one in the galaxy could have rivaled such an unprecedented force! The prospect flattered him. The adage ran through his roiling mind, The cosmos has not the root of weakness, but the pith of unchained power!
Before the waiting initiate stood the master predator of all! His title was eponymous to the voracious creatures lurking within the seas of E’er Doxl, a vile creation notorious in how it slithered to the surface and swiped unsuspecting trawlers, cargo dinghies, and civilian gallies in a single bite.
That bite! Like the Great Serpent’s penchant for casting devastating spells to smite anything in his path. Such a power was sought by those who wished to join his unholy crusade, but worthy ambitions came with costly prerequisites. The initiate hailed from his preexisting status as an Oc’tlite warrior; stalwart, yet deadly, merciless, and without a shred of pity or guilt, a disposition well condign to his newfound calling.
The rite of passage commenced in a savage wall of violence!
The Great Serpent, his reptilian skin revealed by the flicker of the kindling mounted to the wall in tallowed fasces, outstretched his hand over the initiate’s skull, closed it in a rapturous embrace, and uttered the mantra. The rest of the congregants, with lighted candles held by their chests, followed in a sea of chants. The ominous drone ebbed and flowed through the depths of the caverns, embedding instructions with every throb of tortuous delight.
A sudden pressure wave bombarded the initiate. He felt himself thrown into the massive tide of what could have been a black hole that tore his body asunder. Yet he gained a certain pleasure out of it; a morbid, sadomasochistic impulse that matched his brutishness, evoking the executions of traitors and rebels he meted out in the course of his indenture as a soldier.
But it all came at once, overwhelming even his callous ego. The pain exploded; its intensity capable of blowing out the organs of the frail and stupid. Regardless, he stood his ground, refusing to submit to his fears and break away, too bent on joining the most powerful collective known in the galaxy; the Serpent tolerated no other!
Screeches of entities unknown, including those of the Dormant Ones who lurked beyond the crypts of the galactic core, shattered his conscience and split his soul, unleashing hordes of cosmic horrors soon to be under his whim. Visions filled him; unexplainable energies seared through his body conjured by the Great Serpent himself. The surge rivaled the explosive yield of a supernova that belched out deluges of cosmic rays and massive planet-stripping tendrils of fire. Within a matter of seconds, the billowing energy coalesced into a lethal skein—the natural course of which would have left a gaping hole in the very mountains from which it seeped—that only the constant drone of the invocation tamed and channeled.
The Great Serpent’s mastery of the dark arts paled any high-tech weapon used against him. His accoutrements remained as outwardly primitive as the savagery of his home world. He scorned technology, regarding science as a mere toy of lowly creatures, its fruits of labor as useless as the corpse of a slave festering in boils. The sight of wood-crafted tools, surf-drawn carriages, and the blood-and-soil agrarianism going as far back as his ancestors remembered, subverted the presumptions of any outworlder. The real weapons of the Cult of the Sunless, besides the cold steel brandished by foot soldiers used in the first wave of battle, harnessed the elements, compressing them to a single point of energy as intense as the core of a star, and wielded them with the finesse unmatched by their enemies.
The initiate, by virtue of his frigid spirit, craved such power since his days as a lumpen acolyte on the front lines. Now, his day has arrived!
He thrashed and spasmed, yet stood as firm as a rock. The years of grueling discipline as an elite warrior paid off. He toiled endlessly to master the black arts, to rival his mentor, reducing the galaxy to a canvas on which he would forge new paths for his master. Who said technology was exclusive in modern warfare? The surging magick crackling and burning through the initiate said otherwise.
The Great Serpent knew his heart, and cracked an evil grin, chanting in barbaric tones that shook the cavern walls. The initiate, now resistant to the harshest elements, would serve him well. The congregants followed with a crescendo that matched the fanatical fervor bolstering the initiate’s endurance. He never buckled. Instead, his sneers and grimaces under the excruciating conditions turned into a devilish smile. Pain no longer affected him; he was pain!
In the blink of an eye, the surge abruptly stopped. The Great Serpent released his hand, staring into the eyes of his once-acolyte. Rather than collapsing in a spell of seizures or the trauma of contusion, the initiate, as expected, straightened his countenance and glowered back into the eyes of his master, assuring him without words of his triumphant passage. His own eyes beamed like a high-precision laser, able to cut through the strongest of material that obstructed his path. Filaments of electrostatic residue fizzled around him before tapering off, a sign the initiation had come to an end. Delighted, the Great Serpent smiled, his brow hooded like a snake ready to strike.
“Now, follow me…” he commanded.
The initiate, in full obedience, followed without question. The congregants, their candles still ablaze, shambled in pursuit, heading deeper into the meandering caves until reaching a chantry that resembled a ghastly sarcophagus. In its center stood a cage, tattered and draped in filth that hung suspended by a tether. Within, lay a captured Cht’lan slave taken from the last siege in the outer Periphery. Lumbering up in a jaundiced state, the slave, hyperventilating, clasped the bars as she watched the procession draw nearer. Her mouth slackened. The grin forged on the initiate’s face stood out like a horror unleashed from a nightmare turned flesh.
The Great Serpent pivoted and stared intently at his pupil, pointing towards the hapless Cht’lan. The initiate, unceasing in his brutal amusement, beamed at the slave, focusing the colossal energies channeled from the depths of the cosmos. Reaching peak intensity, he hurled them in a single bound, shattering to bits the cage with the slave inside.
Alien limbs and globs of ichor pattered the stalactites above.
Compressing his scabrous fingertips close to his chest, the Serpent applauded, promoting his acolyte’s status to a true brother of the Cult of the Sunless. The initiate would serve its elite warrior class, Destroyers they were deemed, the highest honor bestowed upon any inhabitant of E’er Doxl.
The show of force proved his worthiness, and with an ominous tone, the Serpent concluded, “It is done!”
Special thanks to Matt Dawson and MarQuese D Liddle
Please check out the other stories here on Substack: Robert Garron's Substack