Kilian had barely taken a step into the dark pool that a wild surge of occult energies snuck past his flesh and lashed his soul. Shrugging off the blow, he took the second step, sinking deeper in the violet pool. The dozens of society members and six leaders eyed his every move with rapt attention, but as he neared the middle of the pool, their gaze shifted toward the violet stream.

From its initial shade, the pool took a dark-gray hue—proving that Kilian possessed a corrupt soul. Seeing this, all members nodded in approval, took one sip of their wine glasses, and poured the rest on the ground.

Red fumes sprang forth, cloaking the pool and Kilian in surging smoke. Light-gray souls weren’t suited for Dark Magic. Only dark-gray and black souls could learn the craft. Had Kilian possessed a brighter soul, the dozens of society members would have killed him on the spot—or at least attempted to. Now instead, they baptized him in raw nefarious energies.

Just like the invisible waves of occult forces released by the pool, the red fumes fueled Kilian’s Dra Roots with their horrid powers, making his dra increase bits by bits. By the time he reached the end, Kilian’s dra had increased by 347, making his current reserves stand at 27,017. But while other initiates in his shoes would have gone made with joy,  as far as Kilian was concerned, the boost was negligible.

Wrapping Kilian in an energy orb, the red fumes lifted him from the pool to land before the altar’s stairs. Behind him, the pool regained its violet shade. Ahead, the kowtowing ladies crawled to the sides, three at the left, and three at the right.

At last, the master of ceremonies stepped forward, and while his face remained covered by the peacock mask, Kilian could see some faint similarities to one of the academy’s high-ranking members. And when the man’s voice echoed, all doubts left Kilian’s mind.

“Kilian zu Verden, welcome to the Dark Eden society. You’ve passed the critical point, the rest is all but formalities that will determine the boons you receive from our lord. I’m afraid that in the upcoming step, talent and luck are the sole variables,” the master of ceremony began, and since his voice wasn’t modified by magic, Kilian could recognize him as the Chair of Light, Adam von Skoll. Sweeping the other five, he identified three figures, the Chairs of Lightning, Fire, and Wind whose sensual eyes men could hardly forget. As for the last two, they didn’t belong to the academy.

That four of the academy’s department chairs, especially Adam, appeared for his initiation, didn’t surprise Kilian. That a cabal of dark magi called a fehl, lord, didn’t surprise him either. Arcadians may not believe in God, but they did dread the Devil. They dreaded Fehl. Dark magi’s highest aspirations had always been Fehl Ascension. Naturally, they formed cults of worship around the daemonic entities.

But that a secret order bound to the imperial family dared worship a fehl? Now that, Kilian didn’t expect. For thousands of years—the Baptism of Fire—that three hours long slow burning of all suspected of Fehl Magic, mutations or consorting with daemons, had been enforced by the imperial family.

Yet, a secret society groomed by the Arcadian Emperors and loyal only to them, could worship daemons? How far could the hypocrisy stretch?

“I understand that you must have many questions. Before we answer them, first pay your respects to lord Adramelech and receive his blessings,” Adam stated, and motioned for Kilian to cross the stairs and kneel before Adramelech’s statue. Though thanks to Jezebel, Kilian possessed some knowledge of the Fehl Plane, he didn’t know much about its various rulers.

Therefore, the name Adramelech caused him no major reaction and as instructed, he passed the stairs to kneel before the daemon. Spinning 180, Adam bowed toward Adramelech’s statue, and spoke words Kilian immediately found problematic.

“Ancestral Father, we invite you on this night to appraise this new soul, and grant him your blessings. Oh, Ancestral Father, Prince of War, Tyranny and Glory, Master of Stratagems, answer our prayers and bestow upon this soul your infernal grace!” Adam beseeched, and while his prayers echoed the society members kneeled toward the statue.

There was only one existence Arcadian nobles would refer to as Ancestral Father: their house founder. Knowing this, Kilian felt a stampede of outrageous thoughts race across his mind.

The emerald flames in the statue’s eyes burned with a brighter hue. Flame strands gushed forth, spinning to draw a green pentagram that dropped on Kilian, and set his body ablaze!

Embroiled in a whirlwind of fehl flames, Kilian felt the world around him spin. The scenery changed, and carried by the flames, he landed in a green volcanic world. In that world, hovering amidst erupting volcanoes—Adramelech stood in his full glory—and stared right into Kilian’s eyes.

“Two Arcane Bloodlines and one is von Skoll. You’re a Death Swindler?” Adramelech remarked, speaking in a smooth voice contrasting with his monstrous appearance, and canted his head to the left. Death Swindler was a common term for those that successfully escaped their predestined time of death through methods such as Soul Transference and undeath.

Knowing that there was no point in hiding this from Adramelech, Kilian gave an approving nod.

“So you’re a transmigrated von Skoll boy. That would explain why you have the Arcane Bloodline but not the genes. Your body is also the product of high-level Fehl Magic, I smell Ashera’s touch. Hmm, irritating.

Though, I sense in you untold potential, far more than I had at your age. Perhaps unlike all those failures you’re worthy of standing by my side.

This is not the stage I use to appraise my descendants. Let me readjust it and give you what you deserve,” Adramelech stated, and snapped his fingers. Blinding light overwhelmed Kilian’s sight, and by the time he’d regained his senses, he again faced Adramelech’s statue. Before the society members’ astounded eyes, dozens of emerald flame strands surged from Adramelech’s forehead to dive into Kilian’s—leaving a glowing pentagram in the middle of his brow.

Alarmed, Adam recoiled. Yet the party was only getting started. The leading members were awestruck to see Kilian’s eyes go from hazel to amber-colored, and 36 red clouds appear above his head. Still above them, a massive veil of emerald fehl energies condensed, twisting to show Adramelech’s face in its midst.

On the onix altar—one after another—36 candles appeared with the same flickering flames that now echoed Adramelech’s name. Staggering, Adam dropped on his knees and bowed toward the Fehl Prince’s visage.

“I see. Very well, Full Bestowment,” Adramelech uttered, and a magnificent green lightning bolt descended from the dark sky to strike Kilian. Again, the force didn’t harm his body but transformed his flesh, blood and soul, readjusting Ashera’s work to make him...a true von Skoll. But once Kilian’s genetic rearrangement reached the end, nine blood drops left Adramelech’s lips to merge with his body. Again, his lineage suffered eldritch changes, going far beyond the typical von Skoll scion.

With the emerald flames coating his form, Kilian’s dra increased by a staggering 75%—and while the members had yet to recover—a peacock tattoo appeared on his right arm. With nothing else to do, Adramelech’s ethereal face vanished into nothingness.

Silence fell, jaws dropped, and the dozens of society members stared agape at Kilian who, for once, failed to anticipate a chain of events. In fact, he couldn’t even grasp the full significance of what just occurred.

Adam, however, did and bowed toward Kilian.

“All hail Your Eminence, all hail Your Divine Highness, for henceforth, you are the Grand Herald of the Dark Eden Society and the Divine Prince of Arcadia!” Adam proclaimed, and snapping out of their torpor, his fellow society members prostrated themselves before Kilian and sang the same tune.

“All hail Your Eminence, all hail Your Divine Highness!”

Taken aback, Kilian could only stare slack-jawed, with eyes wide open.