Amid the nothingness, a wisp of black smoke rose. It swirled carefully, as if it just stirred into consciousness after a long slumber. After a while, it tried to find a way out, but the abyss seemed to extend infinitely without an escape route.
The black smoke made a hissing sound, and a voice, its very own essence, spoke.
‘Ilang yugto ng buwan na ang nagdaan . . .’ it surmised in a deep, harsh tone, and exploded in a bellow of rage. ‘Lapastangang Maylikha! Muling sisilang ang kaluluwang iyong kinitil sa kawalan. Sa aking ngalan, muling sisilang ang kadiliman!’
The smoke erupted into black flames, its essence awakening the souls and spirits of figures long forgotten. Carefully. Quietly. Eerily.