Imra smirked, looking to her brother who could not help but show a hint of a smile.
“We will have unlimited power. We will gain unlimited control,” Morpheus howled like an insane prophet. “I single-handedly brought upon the next Cataclysm; I will see it through to its very end. Through fire and ash, black wings across thundering skies. We will bring about the end of days, the war to end all wars. The Final Ruin. All shall suffer under my choking hands.”
Imra and Cerus took a step back with power and lust in their eyes.
Morpheus felt the skin across his back begin to split and bleed as his body shifted. A pair of enormous, black, leathery wings exploded through his skin and out from underneath his robes, stretching to double the size of the man himself.
Imra dropped to her knees, black tears welling in her eyes and praying to her master. Cerus clenched his fists with ferocity, black fluid dripping from his salivating mouth.
The wings flapped with raw fury in an amazing display, razor-sharp, spiked feathers shimmering in the light of the flaming sconces.
Morpheus howled to his Apostates, “I am the Enlightened One, the Winged Death. The æther gifted me with wings of pure midnight upon the bleeding star’s return. The Final Ruin is finally upon us, Children. We must transcend and take on our purest forms, as the æther demands. We have opened the doorway, and now we shall devour this world through flames and ash, ice and stone, death and blood!”
“Yes, master!” Imra screeched, clapping her hands together.
Morpheus stretched his titanic wings, the colour of the blackest night, before running his pulsating fingers across his bowing Children’s electrified faces.
“Let us begin.”
