The story begins-1st installment of the etherium!

The bright light of the full moon stood out against the black night sky. The stars barely shining against its intense light. A thick blanket of clouds obscuring it from the busy city below, though most wouldn't have seen it anyway, too caught up in their busy lives to look up.
   Falling through the dark layer of cloud like a moth drawn to an invisible flame. Falling to the streets of the city below, to a dark alley where one pale light shines through a lonely window like a dark beacon.
   Behind the window sits an ornate desk with a dim lamp illuminating a mountain of paperwork. A mans well manicured hands busily working, rifling through papers, signing documents, his cufflinks catching the light shining against his still neatly pressed royal blue shirt. The red numbers of a digital clock shine behind him, 2 am. The man shows no signs of stopping.
   The silence is broken by the familiar buzz of a vibrating cell phone. A grumble of irritation echos from the darkness as the man reaches for the phone. The light of the phone reflecting in small beetle like eyes, that turn quickly from narrow with irritation to wide with shock and tinged with fear. His slender hands momentarily fumble with the phone before he can compose himself and answer it.
   "May the darkness follow me..." Flashes of metal indicate the man is making some signs in the darkness as he waits for a response. After a few moments of listening  the man replies "Immediately." Slipping the phone back into his pocket he clears the desk with a wave of his hand. Turning to a shelf concealed in the darkness behind him he retrieves a small wooden box filled with sand and rocks and places it carefully on the now empty desk.
   Whispering a few guttural words he holds his open hand over the box, the white sand starts to shift, the box begins to shake. The sand slowly begins to darken, finally turning black. The slender fingers now clench over the sand, so tightly the bones look ready to snap and break through the skin. With this motion the blackened sand sinks deep into the middle of the box, as though it had no bottom. Cracks appear as spiraling legs grow out from the hole in the center, a green hued light flickers within the glyph.
   He again makes some bestial sounds and the light within the box grows stronger. The wood of the box furiously knocking against the desktop as the light now begins to rise from the depths of this abominable symbol. As it floats above the box it begins to spin, in response the ring on one of the mans clenched fingers begins to glow, the same symbol shining sickly on the black onyx stone of the gold ring. The spinning grows faster, the box of black sand has moved precariously close to the edge of the desk and falls to the carpet below.  As the box breaks on the floor a crystal skull on the shelf behind the man ignites revealing the same spiraling symbol within.
   The room now cast in green undulating light causes the man to let out a maniacal laugh, he suddenly opens his hand, the released energy races away in a spectacular wave of light and shadowy mist.
   As the green light travels outward it pulses as though alive, as though searching for something, or someone. Finally another ring similar to the one worn on the man's finger is found by the shock wave and it lights with the same shadowy symbol and a man's face is momentarily illuminated by the light that emanates from it. His craggy face is covered with green tinted shadows caused by the hue of the ring, his dark, slick hair a mass above his head.
   The wave travels onward, finding several other rings in quick succession, each of them responding the same as the first man's, pulsing with an energy almost as though alive. The shock wave then flickers at the eleventh and final ring, then as quickly returns back to the once again silent and significantly darker office where it began. The slim finger of the man flexes, almost as though testing its motions, making sure it still works, then his voice hisses out solidly "TORAKH! The darkness calls!"
   The voice echoes menacingly through the dark silence, the craggy face of the first man is seen once again illuminated in green light. He is sitting up in bed, staring at his ring, mesmerized. Quickly his eyes open, showing a smoking greenish black mist that rises from his sockets like escaping steam. His body goes slightly limp and begins to fall back slowly, but the greenish black mist that emanates from his eyes stays there momentarily, taking on an almost human form. As soon as his body hits the pillows behind him, the smoking, ethereal figure of his body drifts lazily up for a moment. Then it bursts forward with energy, rising through the roof of the building and ripping into the night, leaving darkness in its wake.
   Each of the other ten men rise up in the same way, eleven ghostly figures streaming through the night, traveling to the appointed meeting place. While they travel smoky tendrils of green light are released from the office by the well dressed man. The first of the tendrils reaches a woman walking casually through the darkness, falling quickly upon her and disappearing. Suddenly her eyes glow green with the same light, and her movements become mechanical as she plods forward.
   Several other people are found by the other tendrils, and all of the entranced figures converge on a darkened alley beneath the building where the signal was released. One of these tendrils finds a man slumped in a dank corner of the alley, its attempts to inhabit the body are rebuffed by its unresponsiveness. The tendril moves on, finding another person near the alley and quickly entrancing the body.
   In the darkness of the alley, eleven figures slowly converge in a clumsy manner, walking as though on strings. From the dark corner of the alley the man from the office emerges from the shadows. The entranced people approach him, forming a circle with an empty center, out of the darkness the sound of the inward rush of a vacuum approaches. Eleven ghostly green figures fall likes dark comets out of the night, each body jolting as the jets strike them like bolts of lightning, reverberating like thunder. Immediately the eleven figures become completely alert, but their eyes shine as though from a distance.
   One of the puppets begins speaking unbidden, "Darkness follows me! Why have you called this meeting, this is extremely dangerous, this location is much too open, you risk all that we work for." His words are directed at the man from the office, who remains in the partial concealment of the shadows. His sharp dress is reflected by the glint of a small sliver of moonlight that has broken through the clouds and touched his shoe, sending a gleam off its burnished pattent leather surface. The voice that responds to the accusatory statement, is not, however, his. From the darkest recesses of the alley, a slight figure emerges, a teenage boy walking forward casually, nonchalantly.
   The voice that echoes from the boy is totally foreign to his human body, the sound a gathering, inward echo of wickedness, "It is I who have called this meeting, Torakh!" The voice and the commanding tone are quickly and unmistakably understood by all present, and each one immediately assumes a submissive stance in response.
   The boy steps fully into the center of the circle and continues to address those around him, "I have called you here tonight because it is finally time. You speak of what we have worked for, it is what I have worked for!" The last word a hissing that strikes out at the man who delivered these words who recoils in pain and anger.
   "The Paladin who is last is finally under my power. Tomorrow I will bring him into submission, or destroy him. Your duty, Torakh, is to keep the Guardians from interfering" his words become a mutter and he continues, "...Guardians!" He spits it out as though disgusted by the thought.
                The man with the craggy face suddenly jerks, none of the others seem to notice, but something is wrong. Spiraling back through the mists of the dark night the man sits up in his bed, his dog has just jumped up on the bed startling the man and breaking the connection to his enslaved puppet. The puppet begins to blink, still confused and dazed back in the alley. The man with the craggy face emits a guttural growl and brutally snaps the neck of the dog. "Fool dog, breaking my concentration like that, you deserve no less than death." Spittle drips from his mouth on the lifeless dog.
                Standing in the midst of the alley the circle of puppets begins to rustle like a pile of dead leaves. The voice emits from the boy once again, "Go, and don't make me destroy any of you!" With this the group immediately breaks up, the sudden sound of lightning bolts striking in reverse issues from each of the puppets as their masters link to them is severed. The man from the office stands still semi concealed in the darkness, a glint reflecting off his eyes in the shadows.
                "What is this, you bunch of freaks!" the voice is that of a teenage boy, and issues from the mouth that has so recently spoken with the eerie tones of the Lord of the Void, Zhudas. Something is wrong, and the man in the darkness advances a step, hesitating, his fists are clenched and bulging just on the edge of the light, looking much like they did when they summoned the Void signal from the depths of the sand.
  Hesitating in the darkness he watches the boy, who starts to raise his voice, but the moment the sound rises he is on him, flashing out of the darkness with a decisive swiftness. From the edge of the alley a man peers up groggily from his position slumped against the alley wall, the same man that was so recently passed over by a smoky tendril searching for a captive, he has been roused from his stupor and his senses begin to come in to focus as he watches the man vault out of the darkness. The boy is standing only a few feet away from him, but the man just stares unable to move or talk in the presence of the violence occurring before.
  It happens quickly, the man is upon the boy without a moment's notice. His hands grasp the boy at the base of the neck for an imperceptible amount of time, the man in the alley hears a sharp crack of bone. Looking around the drunkard sees that there are several other people in the alley, his thoughts are almost audible, 'Why aren't they doing anything!!?' Even as he thinks this he notices that they are all listless, though they stir they appear to only half conscious.
  The man from the office takes a step back from the broken and battered body of the boy, the boy who is clearly now dead. Smoke is issuing very lightly from the base of the boy's neck near where the man cleanly snapped it. The drunkard tries to speak, but his words are held back as though he were one of the puppets. He notices the man, but his back is facing him, so he sees no real details. However, something smells funny!
  Then, as quickly as it started, it is all over, the puppets are completely risen from their stupor, standing horrified over the body of the boy. Some of them simply run from the scene in fear, others run for help, no one pays any attention to the light sound of a door shutting at the end of the alley.