Eden, the Dreamers Last Remnant

It had to be tonight, this he was sure of. The moon was full and pale, engulfing most of the sky with its enormous girth.
“Hunters moon.” He whispered as a smile spread across his lips. His pace was calculated, planned out, even the crumbling leaves underfoot seemed part of some staged act. He could feel the presence, feel the world sifting to the surface of the Unseen. He knew it was there, he believed, unlike the rest of his race. “Humans.” He mumbled as the dense forest trees around him began to fade out and were replaced by a circular clearing with a stone dais inscribed with a language long dead to this world. He walked towards it slowly, his robes rustling around his feet. Removing his hood, he stepped onto the platform. His emerald eyes drifted to the moon, bathing his red hair in moonlight, drowning it copper. His eyes slid shut as he felt the other world grow close, he could feel the spirits of this world drawing near. All the pieces were falling into place, he just had to make his move.
He ripped off his cloak and spread his arms out, looking to the moon. The markings over his body shined as his voice boomed and swayed the trees.
“Hear me! Answer my call! Those whose restless spirits dwindle here and refuse to leave! I summon you! Come to me! I, Pirro, sorcerer of fire, wielder of flame beckon you to me! Come!” The wind picked up and made the trees creak and moan, as if creatures were climbing them. The boy’s smile widened, his white flesh shining in the moonlight. “I hear you! Come! Allow me to take you in, grant me your strength! I am but your servant!” He threw his head back and his voice slide and note deeper.
“Fey au tsu cutl ma tae leten au mau ra su fa mea tou cba maat ha le ten nau!” The words on the dais began to glow red hot as he continued his chant, the wind swirling faster around him, seemed to whisper with him.
His eyes rolled back as the wind whipped his hair around his porcelain face. He seemed so fragile as it spun around him, but he kept his chanting until the wind came to a standstill. His lids flickered as his eyes rolled back into place. He looked around sleepily, panting heavily, the muscles of his stomach and chest were aching. He summoned his fire to his finger tips and looked back up at the moon, clearly displeased that his summoning hadn’t worked.
“Fine then, I’ll burn down this wretched place!” He spat and threw back his arm, the pyre in his hand growing. A breeze whispered through the clearing. Just as the boy threw the fire ball, it vanished. He drew his eyebrows together and leaned forward. He could hear it now, the whispering. It was everywhere. The voices of the dead rang in his ears, making the bleed. He screamed and covered them. They whispered his name, and said they would gladly take him as a vessel. His eyes flew open and rolled back again. He opened his mouth and began chanting the ancient tongue again, but what came from his lips wasn’t his voice, but the voices of the whispering dead around him. Blood continued to trickle out of his ears as the chanting grew faster and his body began to bend back. The pyre in his hand began to lick and travel down the rest of him, igniting his whole form, while the chanting continued to crescendo.
Then the words turned into a long, drawn out scream and the flames burst from his body, and became a sonic boom, wiping out the trees around the clearing and spreading to all the trees in the forest.
His body fell back against the platform and laid still, a strange black smoke curling into his mouth. He coughed and rose to his knees, quickly doubling over and landing on his forearms. He took in a ragged breath and looked up. Black was slowly creeping across his eyes, making them as dark as the sky above him. He took in another breath and his eyes rolled back again, revealing not green, but a burning red ring where his iris’ used to be. His hair blew gently in the wind, a more fiery red than it had been, and as a leaf dance by the strands touching it burst it into flames. A smile slowly began to spread across his face, his teeth more pointed than before, making his mouth full of daggers. He stood up and turned slowly to his right.
“They are free.” His voice came out in a hundred tones, some ragged, some soothing. “With this, let flame engulf. What is, will become, let this be done. All that is, all that was, thy will be undone.”