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[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

To say that the return of the Force was empowering would be a ghastly understatement, as the mixture of euphoria and the plaguing of constant pain coursed its way through Dictum's body and soul like a wildfire. Like an addict, he craved it, lapping at it like a wild dog on the verge of dehydration. And yet, the more he lapped at it, the more it pained him upon its return, causing him to ache for more to numb himself to its pain. So many months without it, starved by both its touch and blindness was like a breathless moment where one could only struggle to survive. And now that it was back, it bore its vengeance upon his frail form.

 

But he withstood it, taking its rapture willingly, and becoming its silent Master. The will of the Force may have been a strong one, but his will was absolute. He would not let it break him. He would make it his own as he sat aboard the Sith's shuttle, the piercing echo of the Force capable of crippling the weak, intensified only by the wails of the fallen as a smirk crossed his pale lips. Amidst the rocking turbulence of the shuttles exit and the following destruction of Helvault, the Darkness provided its antidote. With the Force at his call, he supped upon the catalyst of its wound, functioning as a darkened balance between pain and bliss as it tore at his existence. This was why he smiled devilishly. He knew its truth. And it's knowledge was his power. For he was a Lord of the Sith, and his darkness was his will.

 

As the moment of struggle subsided and his control over the Force cemented, he felt the shuttle's landing and noticed the others begin to depart. Draped in the Robes of his people, he stood, a weight lifted by his will rolling from his form like mist as he turned toward the shuttle's exit behind the group. He knew the time of Helvault had passed, and his future was beginning to take shape. So his focus shifted, and with the loss of the Dead One hanging over the rest, his thoughts were elsewhere. For he had returned to that which he had came from, a legacy born child of the Darkness, and the fold would need to accept him. Power begets power, and as these few had shown, power accumulates around the powerful.

 

This was where his focus had shifted. If Helvault had taught him anything, it was that he still had much to learn. He had been caught, taken alive for the attempted murder of the Alpheridies Chancellor, and locked away. He had failed in his previous mission, whether it led to his meeting these Sith or not, and that was something he felt a subtle kinship to in this Solus. Standing his silence, he took a portion of the being's burden upon himself, as he deserved a similar punishment whether he received one or not. Failure was never an option.

 

"Recieve the gift of knowledge and clarity..." He spoke to himself beneath his whispered breath as Solus recieved his Master's punishment. "And become stronger from it."

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

Dictum remained in silence as the group before him began to disburse, the Elder Sith retreating to the confines of the shuttle and the pragmatic voice of the Shard echoing across both the acoustic and the Force, that latter of which he paid little heed at first. For Dictum, this display of the Order he had sought was unusual and weird, albeit different from the rise he had faced in his coming. His father's past was as much a mystery as the group before him, but from what he learnt under his last Master, the Shard's reaction was unwarranted. 

 

"I will go with you... He decided and spoke to the Shard Solus as he departed within the confines of his unnatural bonding, quickly catching up in his departure and leaving behind his compariotarch from Helvault in hopes of discovery under this Master of Hides. "Perhaps in your endeavor, I will find answers of mine own."

 

For Dictum, any knowledge of his Father, Darth Ragnus, could provide the key to himself. But as the two walked the halls toward their destination, he couldn't help but notice differences in Solus' Apprenticeship and his own before his rise to Sith Lord, and silently grew curious in them. Breaking the silence that had enveloped them, Dictum questioned Solus.

 

"Why do you hold your Master in such high esteem, Apprentice?" Dictum questioned, his tone carrying his curiosity as his blind gaze made no motion toward the Shard. "My own tutelage taught me different. To rise to the rank of Sith Lord, I would have surpass my Master and slay him. Wouldn't it prove a burden to slay the one who you hold upon such a pedestal?"

 

Or were this Order different than the one he held lineage to, the olden Order of the Sith he derived from a more classical and conservative aspect that had dissipated in the turning of the Galaxy in the years since his induction? He thought in silence to himself as he gave the Shard a chance to respond, his thoughts upon the cullmative aspect of strength in numbers over the aspect of strength through will. Was there a difference that made more sense? Perhaps this is why Helvault was a success when his own had failed to ever present the opportunity. 

 

"I suppose there is an advantage to numbers.. He continued, raising his hand to his chin in deep thought as he processed the pros and cons. "But you would lose quality in the quantity, making the individual weaker to ensure the strength of the mass....

 

As the two reached their destination, Dictum realized that he may have overstepped boundaries set by the Apprentice's Master or the Apprentice himself, his curiosity of the current Order's philosophy as alien to him as bonding the Shard to such an inorganic form. Still, it wasn't completely unheard of, as his Master often spoke of Lord Haphaestus, a culmination of flesh and steel. "Forgive my ignorance, Apprentice. The philosophy that my own Master instilled within me likely predates your own. I'm sure it's as foreign to you as yours is to me. Perhaps we could speak more of it upon completion of your task."

 

Turning away from the Apprentice, Dictum turned toward this Master of Hides. "Loremaster, bring me all that you have on a Sith Master known as Darth Ragnus."

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

Taking the data pads and holocrons, even a few scrolls harboring his father's life within the Order, Dictum excused himself and retired to a small table set aside for readings. Within the confines of the small library, many had been set about for the House of Dragon members as well as Sith who ventured there to seek out rites and rituals and most held supplies and ingredients for most on the go practitioners. But Dictum wasn't there for such things, and after lighting a small candle in the corner, sat down in the ill lit room as he spread the information out.

 

The scrolls laid out mostly hand written accounts of Rangus' deeds, some even holding his father's barely legible writing. The datapads, on the other hand, were mostly Imperial records of his exploits to derive truth from fantasy, and held the undeniable truth, including the search for Rangus after he went rogue over his sister's marriage to the Jedi Master Phantorius Armegedon. But Dictum cared little for his father's own dealings, a bastard birthed by a rarely known father who only cared upon the realization of his latent gift in the Force. Ragnus, Marie, the Armegedons... they were but a part of the story and miniscule to what he sought.

 

No. What Dictum sought wasn't truth. It wasn't closure. It wasn't even his father. Dictum sought power, and it was only brought by knowledge. Even the smallest detail could bring immense power. And that was his only passion for searching his father's life. Focusing his will upon the small holocrons, he searched their contents for where and when his father gained the most knowledge in the Darkside and what led him to such. Mostly, they held his training, recordings of his self and his maniacal ego, and a few theories upon his father's life and whereabouts, a truth that only he and his former Master knew. He scoffed and pulled forth his own holocron, a creation of his own doing before he slew his former Master and rose to the Rank of Lord.

 

"It seems my Father held a menial life amongst the Sith Order of old, barely a foot note to be spoken of and his disappearance holding more of a mystery than he ever did." Dictum spoke as the holocron recording his presence within its crystalline form, the Force being willed into its knowledge. As he did, the holocron's shapes twisted and bled of the kyber that housed Dictum's imprinting. "It seems he held more of a significance of himself more so than his beloved Order. Just as I figured. He was nothing compared to who I will become."

 

Lifting up a data pad and setting a few scrolls upon before him, he gazed upon them as the Force flowed through his sight and the knowledge of the contents ran through his mind. "But there's not to say that he wasn't completely useless, nor this endeavor meaningless. It seems he dabbled a bit in the realm of shadows and illusionary. I've noted a few records of his training that could be useful to adapt upon my own form. Nothing powerful, but useful."

 

As his mind caught a glimpse of a section he had skipped over previously, he noticed a briefly miniscule mention of the Sith homeworld of Zoist, and the Force tugged at his mind in the most peculiar way. So much so, his interest peaked and he sought out information upon the world from the Master of Hides. Returning to the table, he read over the world in silence before continuing. 

 

"It seems my father has held out on me. There was a world he visited briefly during his time as a Sith Lord shortly before he rose to the Rank of Master. It seems it was destroyed past his time, but recently revived by another. I'm not sure of the significance of this world, but the Force seems to fear this place and is corrupted by it. Which is why I am curious of it, given his time spent there and his rise shortly after. Perhaps it is coincidence, but... Dictum contemplates the thought and resigns to his own feelings. "Perhaps not. I should visit this world and investigate it further. Perhaps it holds the key to his rise."

 

After noting a few other things of little mention, a few techniques to begin his understanding of the powers he found useful, Dictum returns the items to the Master of Hides and exits the library with his holocron settled away. Finding a small training room, he set out to test the powers and skills he came across during his search.

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

Dictum reeled from his sparring partner with haste as the Sith's blade aimed for a scarring blow, the sudden shift in the Force emanating from the Sith Lord dispersing in all directions as his facade took hold of all options of escape. To his opponent, it appeared an illusion of four separate Dictum's spirits away, but only one held the true path. By the time his opponent would have figured it out, Dictum had become one with the shadows and at a decent distance, had lashed out a tendril of dark energy and smirked as his opponent fell to his knees in an agony of the mind, the Sith Lord allowing his hold to seep into the Sith for a brief moment before he released.

 

Sheathing his blade, Dictum scoffed as the Sith attempted to retaliate, but held himself off in the experience. But Dictum's spar had came to an end, and though there was no victor, his opponent held the knowledge of when not to push farther. A wise choice for a nameless Apprentice. But what the Apprentice had learnt in return was a far more valuable lesson. Shifting his head toward the encroaching planet, Dictum nodded and made his departure from the training grounds toward the gathering others. Though Dictum held no knowledge of where they had come, he had felt the shift from hyperspace and felt the knawing presence of the Darkness. And also the rise of another.

 

For Dictum, the Darkness was but a bath, a siv that ran abundantly across any who chose to shower beneath it. But in its natural and enriched form, it was a well to dip the bucket to fill said siv. And that is what emanated from the planet's presence below. As he made his way down the halls and back to the hangar bay, he felt the refreshing presence of another who had recently showered in the Darkness and its power had filled this being beyond his own. As he passed @Karys Narat iv-Adas, he nodded respectfully to the recent risen Master of the Darkness.

 

"It's seems I'm not the only one who has grown in power." Dictum spoke barely above a whisper as the two Sith's presences passed one another. "Thank your Archivist for what he was able to procure for me during my stay."

 

(Next post will be on Zoist after the others)

Edited November 9, 2022 by Lord Ōk Rägnär

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

The realm of Chaos, or as known by the Corellians, hell; was a realm of darkness of despair, a realm of eternal damnation for those whom walked against the bonds of nature and sought to control reality its self. It was the realm of Bogan, of the Darkside its self and was eternal even before the Je'daii ever held a name for it. And it resonated within the very fabric and manifestation of Dictum's own soul. He and Chaos were one.

 

As Akheron went about his own devices, and Aeon did the same, Dictum stood alone, draped in the bloodstained hides he had fashioned his robes from, leathered skins stained with the purple hue of the Undead that beaconed at Inmortos will whom he faced atop the spire of this very ship. And in his pocket, his prize, granted by the Undead God King himself. Reaching into it, he pulled the unnatural crystal forth and let it hover within his palm.

 

It was the Stillblade Crystalis, a crystal usually reserved for the few Cyromancers whom held the knowledge to properly use, a forethought gifted by the crystal when he first picked it up. He knew he could never full possess its abilities, but as the crystal floated above his palm, he could feel its unnaturally cold resonance speaking to him as all light that surrounded it became a darkness to its hunger. Dictum may have been a man of logic, but even he knew these crystals held a symbiotic sentience within themselves as all crystals did, a communion between them and the Force they intertwined with whether it be light or dark.

 

And so he let its sentience guide him through the halls of Inmortos' ship, hungering for the shell that would confine its power and harness it. And so the trek to build its hilt began. Most of the parts were eerily easy to find, almost as if the Undead God King held prior knowledge of this occurrence, bringing a smirk to the hidden face of Dictum as he progressed. But for the casing, it held a different view that made the Sith Lord a little uneasy as he made his approach upon a collection of Soulfrost, a type of ore in which the souls claimed by the Necromancer resided.

 

As Dictum brought his palm close to the ice like ore, feeling the souls within attempting to prey upon his soul, the symbiosis connection between Dictum and the Crystalis tamed the Soulfrost and ensnared the souls within as the Soulfrost became liquid as it wrapped itself around the components and the Stillblade Crystalis contained within. Feeling the cold creep around his fingers and encase the crystal and components, it became solid again and Dictum gripped its cold form tightly as he reached into his connection to the crystal and activated it.

 

With the screams of the Undead, the Stillblade sprung to life, it's blackened blade engulfing all light around that surrounded it and feeding the hungered souls that were contained within its hilt rather than upon the soul of Dictum himself. And yet, the blade did not hum like most lightsabers, an eerie quiet amongst the backdrop of the room where they stood. A silent blade for the Assassin that was Dictum with only the screams of the Undead signaling its activation. A fitting prize indeed. Deactivating it, Dictum clipped it to his hip where the other once sat, feeling the hungered spirits nawing at his soul. And yet, his connection to the realm of Chaos would be its answer,  as it fed the spirits rather than his own soul. Feeling this, Dictum smirk grew into a devilish grin. The Undead God King knew exactly what he was forging in Dictum.

 

Hearing the call of Akheron, Dictum returned to the others. He said not a word upon his arrival, and stood opposite the others. Chaos continued its call to the Assassin, and it was time to answer it once again.

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

As Lord Akheron began his ritual, Dictum stared almost attentively at Aeon as the Shard revealed his resting place within his metallic form, the brandishing of his true form as a combination of sentience and Droid, born of crystalline and ore, a creation of Chaos and Hell it's self. It was a rare sight, even for one who sees of the Force and the Mind's Eye. Slowly, he could feel the voice of Chaos growing closer.

 

For Dictum, the call would be a memberance for those who regained their vision after it's loss, blurred and distorted at first. But as the looming call of Chaos grew stronger and louder amidst his Mind's Eye, clarity would come and focus would set in metaphorically as it grew and the veil became lifted. And when the veil became non-existent, he would see Chaos in its glory and once again know its hellish landscape. And in that moment, he would know the Shard's Madness as his own, just as he would know the Lord's Wrath.

 

"Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!" Dictum's words rolled off his tongue roughly as he joined in the chat, stepping up to the alter and pulling the Sith Sword from beneath his Robes as he ran the blade across his forearm and let the blood pour slowly to a trickle into the chalice below. "Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"

 

Akheron may have been the vessel upon which Chaos' call came into being, but as the chanting called upon it, it would be Dictum's cracked soul upon which Chaos would answer and the veil lifted. That which resided within him, the sliver of Chaos that had intertwined within his soul, would become the key to it's unlocking. And as the word's echoed into its beyond, the key would be turned. As Wrath joined with Madness, another would join the fray. That which made up Dictum's solemn endeavor: Sin.

 

It was through the Knowledge of Sin that wrought the darkness and birthed Chaos, a singular defiance of all that was considered holy and sacred and defined the differences between good and evil, and within its own, divided the natural order. And it laid within the core of Dictum's harbored soul. This was his Darkness, his unholy decree. Without it, none would exist. Each would come differently, whether in wrath, sloth, pride, or lust, just to name a few. But without Sin, without Defiance, it would slowly slumber. And in Dictum's Sin, came it's knowledge and why Chaos chose him as a vassal, a seed sown to harvest. Combined with Wrath and Madness, it would only bring intensity. 

 

"Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

To call Dictum's Chaos a Sin was merely an afterthought, a means to describe what it essentially was. And while most Sith took the persona of a sin, Dictum was the embodiment of it. The embodiment of its original form. Wrath was a sin embodied by Akheron, and it was its purest form, anger and vengeance culminating into a blossoming bloom of pure rage. Dictum could feel it encompassing his emotions even as the realm of Chaos began to intertwine with that of reality. And Madness was a simplistic form of Pride, the unreasonable denial of truth and acceptance. It's effects could be seen through his mind's eye as the visage of Chaos became their reality in a blurred resonance. But Dictum's Chaos, his Sin, held true to its envirtuous truth.

 

To stand upon the precipice and gaze into the realm of Chaos was to see the truth of reality in an uncomphrensible way. You could see its reflection mirroring the real world but in a twisted and malevolent way dependent upon how you perceive reality. For some, it is as simple as light and dark, or even heaven and hell. But for Dictum, it was both and neither. It is said that through Chaos, Order, or rather the need for it, is born. But it is simple and complex all in the same token. Where as Life is tamed and bridled by the choices and lessons made within, Chaos is unbridled and wild, choices nor lessons made and all perceptions envisioned within. It is infinite with the knowledge and perception of finite, and nothing is unknown in the knowing. Chaos simply is.

 

For Dictum to stand opposite the illusion of himself in the Light, and Ōk to stand opposite of Dictum in the Dark changed little about each other save for the obvious choice either had made. Both would have lived the same life and went through the same hell that the real Dictum had until the moment that the Force changed everything. It was in its knowledge that both would change either for the better or the worse. It mattered not which side they served, for the Sin of Knowledge was still branded upon their shared souls and both understood the concept of what Chaos was in both the Light and Dark sides of the Force. Their singular difference was but a choice. For Ōk, it would have been Order and the subservient need for it. And for Dictum, it was Chaos, unbridled and free. Outside of that, there were no differences between reality and illusion.

 

Because of this, there were no words needed to be spoken, no duel needed to be had. Both understood the reality of their interaction and both with a smirk upon their slightly differed veiled faces, both nodded to the other. In the sense of Dark and Light, both were but apparitions of the same soul. Both were selfless, both were loyal, and both were appallingly brash. And both would have sought out their perspective paths to understand their Father and when the crossroads came to pass, left him behind to pursue their own. And as the souls began to attempt their feast upon Dictum's form, Ōk simple walked past Dictum and dissipated into the artherium of the veil between life and death as the Force surrounded Dictum's unconscious form to shield it from the hungered souls.

 

Ōk Rägnär simple was who he was, whether Light or Dark, and even an illusion of himself would know this singular truth. In all realities of every universe across the cosmic multiverse, Ōk would inevitably take up the mantle of Darth Dictum and his decree would be one of Chaos' singular truth. That in the natural order of life and death, there was a time and place for everything and anything. Where the Force was Life, Chaos was Death. And every beginning must have it's end. Dictum's Decree would be that End.

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

To walk amongst Chaos was to accept fate and coincidence as two halves of the same token, where nothing could be connected and in it's madness, create the direction. This was what it was like for these three of the Unholy Trinity. The Jedi were beings of fate, destiny, and it's ilk. But for the Sith, those who chose to be Harbingers of Chaos, fate was what you forged of life and coincidence, the chance presented a means to an inevitable ending. This was usually true for all whom knew and embraced it.

 

But the reality of Chaos stood more complex than what the average mind could hope to comprehend and Chaos differed for each. This was the reality of Chaos. It was the natural opposition of everything. It was death for life,  it was dark for light, it was hysteria for order, it was coincidence for fate. Even as the trio treaded within it's realm, this truth that had held a grasp upon Dictum resonated within them all. Even as Wrath and Madness resonated within Dictum, a symbiotic coinhabitation of their joint souls as the ritual progressed.

 

So when the apex apparition of Dictum chose its time to step forward and meet him within the realm of inconsistency, the two held a similar smirk as their thoughts met. Much like with the lightsided version, there wasn't really much to separate the two outside of choices and the paths that laid to their foundation. Only this one held the same foundation and inevitable outcome that Dictum walked with outstretched arms. He was Dictum, and Dictum was he, both born of the Chaos they accepted, separated only by time it's self. In a realm like Chaos, this held very little meaning except to the realm of reality.

 

Lightsabers ignited as the blackened blades drew in the surrounding prismatic lights that gave vision and the aura of the surrounding air grew cold and dense, heavy with the natural presence of the Stillblade Crystalis. One stood a Master and the other a Lord, both content to truly divide reality from chaos and present the seeds that had been sown. There was no need for this, but neither cared nor worried. This was simply their nature, only one more refined than the other.

 

As the blackened blade clashed and smirks turned into smiles beneath their shared masks, the apparition was the first to speak, his voice elder and corrupted by the arc of time that separated his own reality from Dictum's truth. "It has been a long time Lord Dictum. To be so young and spry again would bring me such joy."

 

Releasing his blade from the drawn connection, and providing a brief distance before Dictum's form shifted in all directions at once, he responded as blades once again drew toward the other. And so would such power to I. But we both know that each has a place and point in its own time."

 

As the spar continued, each toying with the other,each testing the other's true limits both in action and in thought, neither truly wished to overcome the other. For this was the first time Dictum had met his older and stronger self and the other merely wished to see which aspect of himself that he stood before. For in this game of cat and mouse, the moment and revelations were the true goal of each.

 

"We both know which is the strongest, the more in tune with Chaos and it's true purpose." The older Dictum spoke as his form dissipated into the netherrealm of shadows, only his tone echoing across the vast void that was Chaos. "And yet, we both know that means little in this moment of time. Neither of us would wish to know our lives before our given time."

 

"Then why tease me with the opportunity to question your reality?" Dictum responded in kind, his blade arcing over his backside as the older Dictum appeared and attempted to strike him from the rear just as one of his hidden blades came from the opposing direction in Dictum's turn and blocked in kind. 

 

A laugh erupted as the older Dictum withdrew. "For we are Chaos. And in Chaos, we are meant to sow discord and disruption. Only through the veil of truth, can men discern the lies they tell themselves, even for us."

 

Dictum stops his progression and genuinely ponders the moment in which the elder had spoken. "And what would be our lie?" He poised suspiciously. 

 

The elder Dictum chuckles, but does not laugh, as he deactivates his blackened blade and Dictum does in kind. Removing his mask, the elder reveals his aged face and scars too numerous to discern his true identity beyond his sole presence. "That Chaos is the finality, and our just decree. We are no more than mere Harbingers of the Dark, wanton death and destruction our sin. We may have found purpose in Inmortos, but we were never free. Search your Wrath and Madness, and you will know this to be the solemn truth."

 

A smirk erupts as he sees Dictum begin to question everything, and in his moment of weakness, the Elder Dictum made his final charge to usurp Dictum and claim his reality for his own. As the two souls intertwined and struggled for solemn control, truths and lies both became apparent. Madness was abound in the Elder, corrupted entirely by the void of Chaos that sowed his heart, and Wrath was enraged within Dictum as he learnt of Scorpio's survival when his father perished upon Tatooine. Memories from both would bind and twist in the chaos of the moment as Chaos tore open a larger void within the reality that was Dictum. And as the Elder was rejected by both Dictum and Chaos, Dictum was left a smoldering husk of himself as Chaos became his reality.

 

With an echoing laughter, the Elder apparition faded back into his reality, his purpose fulfilled. Enraged by his cousin's survival, collectively bound to the Elder's maddening reality, Dictum stood alone in Chaos as the revelation of the blended fact sunk into his very core. He could feel its reach folding into @Solus and @Karys Narat iv-Adas as his reality settled. And in that moment, Dictum laughed. Chaos was more than it seemed.

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

Dictum's laughter echoed from the precipice of Chaos back to the mortal realm of reality and his form slumped to the ground, reborn from the chaotic cocoon like the undead Dathomir Nightsisters, as he slouched in resonance. Even as the others spoke, he reveled and revered in the moment from wince Madness, Wrath, and Truth became his reborn vision, letting its mindscape flow into his being as a rancor does the fauna within their territory. And when he stood, he rose a differed being behind the Mask of the Undead. His tone deeper and darker barely muffled by it, he replied in kind.

 

"Rest if you wish," He began, his words carrying an almost maniacal undertone as he spoke from behind his chosen veil. "But I am rejuvenated by Chaos, bathed in it's...."

 

Before Dictum could utter another word as Akheron departed, Lord Aeon dropped unconsciously upon the floor as the resonance of Chaos flowed viciously around the trio. He saw what Aeon saw, he felt what Aeon felt. But for Dictum, there was little to no effect transpiring from the veiled realm of the Shard's chaotic mind. He simply existed in the moment upon a separate but leveled resonance. 

 

"Once we are done with Zoist, we shall venture to Yavin. If Chaos has spoken this, we shall heed its becon." Dictum spoke with a quick vindication, the realm of Chaos residing in his soul permeating as a percolator as their conjoined souls began to resonate as one. "As it is decreed, so shall it be."

 

Letting his words linger but for a brief moment before he let his gaze fall upon Aeon in an acknowledgment of his words before Chaos' call. For where Akheron would feel Madness and Chaos, and likewise, Aeon would feel Wrath and Chaos, Dictum had become Wrath and Madness. Beneath his veiled face, the echo of the unholy trinity would display the changes taking place within the Miralukian's eye of his mind. Logic had become corrupted, almost religiously so. And conviction had become a death sentence for those whom found themselves as opposition. But more importantly so, truth was what Dictum willed it, half harbored and half distorted.

 

It would be the will of Chaos, no matter the outcome. As the Crown of Shadows fell upon his form and engulfed him, he retreated, leaving behind the duo to contemplate this reborn reality and revelations. Meditation was needed to center his soul.