Scarcely did the funeral proper end than did Abhorash, Progenitor of the Consanguine, step forward. Ignoring all save his singular goal, the vampire proceeded to the sarcophagus, proclaiming it no fit tomb for the Goddess; he promised that when the time came to lay Her to rest, it would be upon the ashes of a conquered world.

Irreverently did Abhorash pull the Divine corpse from Her resting place, sinking his fangs into the desiccated remains of Her neck. In the blink of an eye was the corpse utterly consumed, no trace remaining save for dribbles of Divine essence upon the Progenitor's lips. Though Divinity and Blood warred within the vampire's veins, he eventually brought the Virtue to heel, ascending as the newest member of the Divine Pantheon.

Wreathed in divine fire, the newly crowned Hegemonist vanished, reappearing atop the skies of the Mhojave. Extending His clawed hand towards His Empire, the God seized the dominated form of Ati within His merciless grasp. He promised the creature punishment for the trespasses of Shadow, promised that it would know Pain as He closed His fist.

A horrid screeching arose from the Third Child, the depths of its agony cast forth about the realm as its murky form stretched, scattering impossibly wide to spill across the sky. Silence abruptly reigned as it was divided across the heavens, though it boiled still with suffering. Thus did eternal darkness claim the Mhojave as Abhorash's imperious declaration rang across the lands:

The sun never rises on the Empire.

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 9th of Khepary, in the year 505 MA.
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