There are certain nights. On the eve before the the St. John's day. When wickedness and transgressions of god's will is tempted to be broken by the fallen angel himself. In areas of bleakness where despair can be casted upon the mortal world, the sinful are gathered and the dead are roused from their rest. One night this happens. One night of the hellish plains being wrought forth to us. One such village, isolated from the rest of the land overlook a lonesome crag of a mountain. There nothing grows but rock, and there is this night's location for the blackened one.
When the sun sets faster than usual that day. As if trying to avoid the horrors that arrive. Even the moon hides by shrouding itself among the clouds. Everyone resides to their homes, children especially, quickly going to sleep in efforts to ride out the night. The bare dark mountain's silhouette is illuminated in the sickly air and dim light of the night. The village becomes nonexistent it's streets of bustling carts and merry folk in day become dead silent this hour.
The peak of this mountain no one dared went up to. Nearly impossible to reach by the strongest of strength nor will. Those who reach it never returned the same and has since been considered cursed. The peak shudders late in the night, before completely moving altogether. It opens like a pair of wings unveiling the horned beast residing in. The giant awakens arms crossed, glaring down below at the village.
His arms proceed to stretch out and cast a shadow down the mountain onto the village. Dread sweeps through the town and homes. Causing fear, madness, and death; sending despair to all casted under it.
Most of the town's misery resides at the gallows. Criminals hanged for their misdeeds and of the ignorance of their fellow men die and remained restless from their malice. It's mascot, the buzzard, happily perches on the noose awaiting the next miserable soul to meets his demise. Being promised pickings from the fresh corpses.
The gallow's watchman flies in panic from the shadowy curtain falling upon the village. The spirits of those insufferable crooks rise from the post and pass through the noose of their demise. Rejected by both men and the heavenly father, they turn to his evil as his most loyal slaves.
As his follower's spirit's awaken and prepare for the night, sets his eyes upon a certain landmark in the villiage. The ruins of a fortress back when the land became engulfed by war. He leans pointed directly at it full force commanding the restless army of the castle to rise from their unmarked graves.
His followers are now ready. They take the forms of witches and warlocks riding on broomsticks or a familiar. Some beckon others to join or forcibly take them to the summit. All the while he continued his corruption further. His foul shadow reached the graveyards beyond church. There, the dead are not protected by his corruption by holy ground. He called upon them disturbing the well deserved slumber of hundreds to promise them more than what the holy father can offer. The spirits tempted, accepted such offers and went to the skies along with the witches, sinners, and warriors begin the flight to the mountain's bald summit.
They led towards the mountain by an unnatural gusts of wind, riding it as they were carried through the craggy cliff sides. They rode about furiously on their mounts. Their limbs flailed wildy into the air as the momentum of the wind carried as it drew the closer to the top of the peak. Upon reaching the top, the dark one lead the current of souls to orbit completely around him. He proceeds to strike it with the back of his hands sending the flowing current into twisted maelstrom. Seeing the miserables spirits struggle in this quick change in motion amuses him and proceeds to chuckle at their expense. The chuckle turns into laughter until decides to abruptly stop the chaos with a wave of his arms; simultaneously opening the gateway to his dominion and begin the sabbath.
Out from the fiery pit wrought his legion, wretched, and miserable. Some of the spirits in the sky were cursed to have bodies such as these. They sprawled onto a flat area below their master and danced and sinned as they pleased to each other.
His hands scooped up a few and gazed upon them with blank yellow eyes. He showed a toothed smile seeing them writhe and struggle between his figures as they begged for mercy. The grin quickly turned to a frown, disappointed at such ungrateful beings. He flicked them back into the fire causing the flames to erupt high in the air. All the hell spawns outside of the fire laughed and cheered at such a punishment and anguish as long as it wasn't them.
He peered into the fire of souls and grabbed three tongues in his hand. Alive they were beautiful loved by many. Such Beauty turned to vanity, lust, and greed and turned over to him at their deaths. They pleaded for tonight that they'd be as fair as they were when alive and young. He moulds the shape of the fires granting their wish. Joyously dancing they became exactly like themselves. Full of pride and vanity, loving themselves above all others.
He waved his hand to reveal them as they truly are. The morphed and turned to flesh. The elegant women turned into beasts resembling a sow, a wolf, and a goat. They were not aware of their own transformations, but noticed the change of each other; still they danced. All the while the demons below laugh their misfortunes and obliviousness.
They then realized their new forms and the true reason the demons below cursed and harassed them. They begged for it to stop, all the evil one did was morph them further into misshapen beings. Now they were being forced by him to continue their dance further being humiliated in the cruel eyes of many. Finally their pleas silenced and with their will completely broken. He proceeded to crush them in his hand over a blue flame.
He opened to see horned demons exactly the full of hatred and malice dancing before him; ready to serve and do his bidding for eternity. He examined them with his yellow eyes glowing through the smoke. They were now in his image and servitude forever, beyond redemption and forgiveness. His grinned more widely than ever seeing victory over his ancient maker by completely corrupting his creations inside and out.
He forced the hellish flames out engulfing the peak as his minions danced more wildly than ever. Some of which jumped straight into the fire itself. The flames changed to different colors; from red to blue to green. Great pillars of fire reached upward and the masses of spirits flew around to avoid them. Harpies lured spirits and demons to them only to grabbed and thrown into the pit and feed the fire further.
The dark one was pleased by his work. He looked around and saw everything he wanted to be. Away without order. Away from the rules of the ancient maker. He lifted his hands to grab the fire and flow of spirits, and launched them to the air. Pointed back down the mixture dove back into the pit and exploded into a blinding flash as he spread his arms and wings to the skies.
His minions awaited for his next act, anticipating the next cruel act to begin at their master's hand. He too eager to continue thinking of the new sinful deeds he could perform. As he reached towards the fireless charred pit, a noise chimed in his ears. It stopped the towering figure merely annoyed by such a sound. Still he continued the reach in the pit and continue the sabbath, until the chime rang to his ears again; this time louder and getting his attention.
To him it was a horrible sound. The sound of hope. The sound of a new day coming. The sound signaling that his night is over.
The demons down below him hated the sound as much as he did as the bells continued to ring. Each dong pierce their ears like spears and burned their eyes with holy light. slowly being driven back to the pit from they came. The spirits above broken from their spell return to their graves. The more slowly and peacefully descended down the mountain to the village. The witches and warlocks to their homes and the dead to their resting places.
The dark one refuse to let his night end. Desperately trying to stand against the dawn as it's golden sun rose. The skies became brighter and brighter as the sun came from the east to the point where he couldn't stand it anymore. He folded wings back up in the shape of the bald mountain peak to reside back in his dominion for another year.
The people of the village woke from the night. Glad to see their friends and families ready for the new day. The night was passed them and all they could do was look to tomorrow. Already the monks and priest began their pilgrimage with more of the town following. Each carried a candle or torch to blessed them and light the way through the dim morning.
Their destination went into the forest were the ruins of an old cathedral was as old as the castle in the village. Burned down during the same night many innocents and men of good will died seeking protection. Still the foundations and stone pillars remained and framed the rising sun in the sky every morning. Though seemed the morning of St. John's day was always when it was the most beautiful.