That was the real reason for the domestic stock now kept in the cells. They were fed every day and kept in relatively good health, all things considered. These tame humans were several generations removed from the originals captured hundreds of years earlier. Like any farm animals, they were bred and born into a world of complete domestication. Women were kept in a breeding room, where their only job was quite simple. The majority of the men stayed in the cells. The important thing was they had very little spirit left. This was key if they were to be useful.
As Dragot continued through the dark room, thin arms reached out to him as he passed by the ground level cells. The sickly sweet smell of unwashed bodies hung heavy in the air. As the moaning continued he could not help but think about how different these humans were to any involved in a real society. They were so simple and primal. Not even the use of language or any real forms of communication were used, even though they were the exact same race.
This was an unintended outcome to an experiment that was nothing more than an accident. If you take an animal away from its habitat at birth and raise the beast with no outside influence, it still retains at least some of the animal instincts it was born with. A tiger is still a tiger and could never be fully trusted not to hurt anyone, but it seems human instincts are nonexistent. They are completely shaped by their environment. That is, they react and adapt to the only reality they know. The perfect pets! Dragot laughed to himself as he continued on to the huge wooden door on the other side of the chamber.
No one was ever allowed to enter here. If a briggit were ever caught even looking into this room, his suffering would be unimaginable. This chamber remained sacred and was for Dragot’s eyes only. The room was in the shape of an octagon. The flat sides of the wall retained that shape until they reached the ceiling, which curled up into a dome. The center of the dome had a large green sphere hanging on a thick golden line. The floor was consistent to the rest of the tower, with shiny black marble that always appeared as though it had just been polished. There were lines of gold trim starting at each corner of the octagon that followed up the sides of the walls and met at the green sphere.
The walls themselves were deep red. Dark blood appeared to be running down the sides of the walls constantly in a never-ending supply. A dim, distant light appeared to be moving around behind the walls, making one side appear almost black and the other a light red. Then the mysterious light would move behind the other wall and give the reverse effect, as if the room appeared to be living.
Dragot waited a moment, considering his options. Even he didn’t care much for this. He had served the predominant demon Krytoes faithfully for centuries, but even though he was entrapped in another dimension and could not physically touch anything in this world, Dragot was truly in awe of the powerful entity and liked keeping their contact...minimal. The mere sight of his image could send the bravest warrior fleeing in pure terror.
If the prophesies held true, the stars would soon be aligned in the “power phase,” and during that time Krytoes would be free to enter the realm of man. There was no doubt the planets were shifting toward this alignment and it might be complete within a few years. But there was more than that written on the ancient scrolls pertaining to mankind’s fate...
A mortal...a deity...something in between...is to be born into the world of man. A supernatural being that defies all the laws of nature, the man-child will possess the power to freely move through other dimensions foreign to his own, to tear holes in the very fabric of time, to open and, more importantly, to close the gates to other worlds that man was never meant to lay eyes on. The Gate Keeper lived, and had to be found soon!
Dragot took a deep breath before beginning the chants. “Orogi mi koomda dosetta oomeora ploomepa,” came the rhythmic articulation. He continued for several minutes, chanting away with his hands held toward the sky as his whole upper body began to sweep in wide circles while his feet remained firmly anchored to the floor. Then the green sphere began to glow dimly as the walls began to ooze faster, with an occasional bubble rising up only to recede back into the wall a moment later.
Now the sphere was beginning to glow brighter as a thin gray mist began to fill the room—light at first, like a spring morning fog, then it became thicker and darker. Contorted faces began taking shape as the fog swirled around the room—faces of a nonhuman nature frozen in a silent scream with jaws wide open in apparent agony, yet no sound could be heard.
Small amounts of static here and there quickly turned into lightning bolts striking the floor, coming directly from the green sphere and lighting up the room with every jolt. One, two, five, followed by a storm of bolts shooting from the floor to the ceiling and back again, illuminating the room in a series of blinding flashes. Then came sudden darkness.