Curse the plague that's yet to, yet to come

[Groshyr]

The words from Israfel's mouth has reached the recipient; not even a minute since he was release, as the room walls started to gloom with glyph more ancient that mankind itself. The language of Elders, that served many purposes and could explain everything in a few words, unlike the Darklings screech and snitch. Such a show was required to show power, to fear - even if a subject to comprehend was a schizo broken man - his body was trapped in the cocoon of telekinesis, floating over the floor.

"You live of the Elders' will; does not something familiar to Ours flow within your shell? We feel it, but yet within you we sense something else. Arrogance." Israfel could suffer the pressure that went all around his body, like a hand grabbed a branch and started to crush it, until it will begin to crack. "You have succumbed to the failings of your humanity - you squandering the gift of the Greater Light to you. What was given, can be taken away."

"Leave us!" - and powerful wave pushed Israfel out of the chamber, closing the doors for him to step into the sacred rooms forever. Acheous went silent, bypassing Israfel's mind like it was nothing but a lifeless stone.