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#Post#: 405296--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Imperfect Date: February 12, 2016, 5:44 pm
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The words weren't registered after they were uttered, instead,
Irusia looked ahead to witness only what her ears allowed her to
for her eyes wouldn't; the muffled cries of the unfortunate, the
shudders that ran through their pale bodies and outrage that
commenced. Proceeding this; silence, and in the sudden scheme of
it all, follows a grand smile on her otherwise undisturbed face,
the sides of her lips curling up upon realising tonight she
would gain everything they had taken from her, and it was due to
the man before her, accepting her proposal, and jumping into it
despite being unsure of the outcome. In actuality, he had
weighed his options and realised there was no way out of it and
Irusia can't help but shake her head at the irony of it all; he
had set her a trap but now it seemed he was the one that was
trapped.
"Come. . ."
It was a mere whisper but she begins directing him to the other
camouflaged door at the back of the lock-up, creaking noisily to
make itself known when she pushes it open, the harsh wind
outside welcoming them into the backyard. Leaves crunched under
her naked feet as she walks exactly six steps forward, stopping
as if there was some sort of arbitrary line. Beyond this, to her
right, there sat a black oak tree that grew like deformed flesh
through the earth beneath. In the centre of it all, there was a
circle, shaped by white salt, the bottle knocked over beside the
tree. She would turn and take his hand, leading him into the
circle, being careful not to interrupt it, while the candles
around it burn brightly at their arrival, as if on instinct.
She would take both of his hands and close her eyes, beginning
to mumble incoherently, her words becoming clearer, all the
while drawing from him to strengthen the archaic success of the
spell.
"Bîkan bo min, bîkan ba agr, bîkan ba bafr, bîkan, bmbana lay
mrdû, bmbana lay s’hrî rash."
And just as she produced the last word, there is a pull, almost
as if it's defying gravitational forces, yanking them violently
one way then another, until they're swallowed into the
underworld, the dripping of water from the ceiling of the dark
basement to the ground, was the first sound to make it to her
auditory perception. Then the cackles of the three ancients as
they step out of their confines and toward the two, each holding
a lantern under their chins that cast a light on their
unpleasant faces. They seemed overjoyed, and amused that she had
brought a friend along; she could feel their rising chests and
their yellow grins, moving in front of the man intuitively.
"Oh Irusia. . ." the one in the middle begins, shortly after
interrupted by the one on the right, "your father won't be
pleased, child."
"I do not care for the man," she speaks defiantly, addressing
the one on the right once more, "do you have what I asked for?"
#Post#: 405315--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Default User Date: February 12, 2016, 7:27 pm
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Fear, confusion, absolute terror: They all raced through Aden's
mind as he moved with the woman through the doorway to yet
another drastically altered dimension. He watched from outside
himself as the ritual was performed; as they were transported
elsewhere to the domain of three withered and wicked looking
ancients, and even as the three approached and spoke never truly
felt as if it were real. So much in such a short time; from
meeting her to being locked in a game he could not win, to the
volatile fumes of some abysmal pit where the ancients lurked,
and it hadn't even been an hour. There was no way it should have
been real...
But it was...
The gravity of the entire situation fell upon his mind as he
sank back into himself, and even as the dark mage beside him
spoke, the words were but a distant hum. He could barely think
let alone voice words that would be understood. He grew
uncertain of his own conviction and want to fall so far. He
thought of how to flee and where to hide. Even the thought of
suicide ran through his mind. Yet his body would not react:
Could not react, as he was torn from reality; through layers of
darkness, into a ring of hell he hadn't known existed. Whatever
lay in wait next was sure to be a picnic... There was no way it
could get worse...
#Post#: 405337--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Imperfect Date: February 13, 2016, 12:53 pm
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The ancients all had distinguishable features for one who
couldn’t tell them apart, because the three women before them
were indeed, sisters and identical, at that. The one in the
middle had a nose far too large for her face, to her right,
Zavine had a mole on her right cheek, as dark as the basement
they were standing in. The one on the left, Zelphine, white and
grey hairs sprouting from her chin, that swayed up and down
every time she breathed.
“Oh I have what you asked for,” Zavine begins, pulling out the
pendant from under her robe and holding her hand out, before
giving it a second thought, and abruptly pulling it back, “it
wasn’t easy getting this. I had to fight twenty men, each the
size of overgrown mammoths.”
Zelphine interrupts, taking the pendant from her sister harshly,
whilst walking towards Irusia, “there’s dangerous power in this
girl. The power they took from you. Even I can feel the
magnitude of your gift and why they were threatened.”
The eldest of the three places the pendant around Irusia’s neck,
letting the dark stone fall betwixt her breasts. Irusia looks
ahead at all three, inclining her head, before turning toward
the man behind her, stricken with terror and seemingly locked in
a trance. She could practically feel his fear, especially with
her power regained. They had created the stone as such that in
order for her to be able to draw from it, it had to be on her
person, not only that, but it had to be on her skin. And only
hers.
“Ladies. . . I realise you haven’t been fed in a few months.”
Their eyes brighten with delight, as they lick their wrinkled
and old lips.
“I’ve got sixty bodies, twenty for each of you, which should be
good enough for the next ten years.”
“But?” Zelphine asks.
“I’ll need fifty percent of the power you gain, split between my
friend and I.”
They take a moment to discuss the deal -too good to resist-
before agreeing and once they do, Irusia wastes no time in
getting out as quickly as possible, taking Aden’s hand in her
own and transporting them back to the garden. She furrows her
brows and places a hand on his cheek, the cackle of the witches
in her human prison ever present as they ripped and fed on the
fresh meat she had provided.
“Listen. . .”
When they finish, the screams come to a gradual end and Zelphine
alone, comes out, interrupting Irusia, who was now detaching
herself from the fellow mage to place a finger one both of their
foreheads. The soft hum of a spell fills the air and she
vanishes before they can decipher it. Not a moment later and a
bright light flashes over her eyes, a surge of power rushing
through her very veins, an overwhelming power that was new to
her body, the same thing, undoubtedly, happening to the man
beside her.
#Post#: 405356--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Default User Date: February 15, 2016, 3:12 am
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Aden could barely think let alone act, as the entrancing woman
who had drug him into the darkest parts of her own hell, and
used him as a catalyst in some grand evolution, once again
pulled him from the nightmarish sights and placed her delicate
hand upon his cheek. He didnt care for the thought of power; of
such possible deviation from who he was, and yet after all was
said and done, he knew he would enjoy it. Even at the cost of
his soul, he knew it would be undeniably satisfying to feel the
powers of ancient magic... and it was with that final thought
stuck in his head; free from the grip of the enchantress who had
torn away the veil he himself had placed over his eyes, that he
let himself fall upon the darkness with great hunger and greed.
When the humming began and Aden lost sight of everything around
him, he was certain at first, that death loomed just ahead. He
had never felt such tremendous power; not from himself or even
his master mage, and even when his own body fell to the earth
like an unconsious ragdoll, that fear clung to his soul like a
leech. He twitched and spasmed; unable to wake from the tortures
of his own mind, as every fiber of his body was loaded inch by
inch with an unearthly energy. From his beating heart outward;
pumping throug his veins like liquid fire, his entire form
burned and throbbed. His eyes spastically darted to and fro
inside the sockets; though he was as blind as a bat, comatose
and unaware of what his form truly endured. The pain was
unbearable, nigh on impossible to fathom, and without hearing it
himself, his screams of agony echoed from his lips with gasps
and tortured breathing barely noticeable in between. He writhed
and shook from head to toe as his mind reeled and sought to
escape the tidal wave of power crashing over him.
Yet, there was no escape. Not from the power, nor the pain it
caused him. He had to endure it, and there was no help for him
in doing just that. He fought back the idea of death as the
power reached the core of his being, and before he could make
another sound in protest; think or contemplate for even another
instant, he sat upright in the dirt and silence overwhelmed him.
His mind went blank; soulless white eyes now staring out at the
garden before him, as every part of who he was disappeared in
the wake of the surging energy, and he was methodically reborn
anew. His fingers hung at the ends of lifeless and unmoving
hands, as they too hung limp at the end of dead arms attached to
an unmoving body. Only his lips moved; though the words that
fell forth from them were as silent as his shadows, and only in
ushering them to himself, did he finally awaken.
His eyes settled slowly; turning an irridescent combination of
blue and greens, as he casually wiped away the dirt from his
clothing, and once more stood up. At first he had no idea where
he was; who he was, but as the seconds ticked by, everything
clicked back into place, and an understanding of all that
transpired washed over his features. He had no idea how long he
fought off the urge to die; the pain and anguish of the
experience seeming to last an eternity in his mind, but when he
once more looked upon the woman who had led him so far astray,
he didnt care. It was over, and he was free. Truly free as he
had never been before...
He was no longer afraid of the darkness he trained in; no longer
hated the silence he walked through, and was no longer alone in
his separation from the mortals he used. She had broken those
threads of fear and confusion in only a day, and yet now there
hung another unseen string between them. He could feel her power
of that there was no doubt; though he knew her to be dangerous
from all he had seen, and yet he could also feel so much more
from her. The powers that had been given to them both; by the
horrid creatures that lurked beyond the shadows of reality,
united them. Aden was certain; before he knew the sound of his
own voice again, that he could not be without her. Not for love,
fear, or anything so idiotic; but because his weak soul had been
sung into the very fabric of the arcane powers they shared, and
now he stood with a piece of himself etched into her.
He could not let her suffer, or die... Unless he too wished to
bear the same result...
He had once again lost, and was trapped in a game he wished to
quit. Forever beside her; unable to escape, as well as unwilling
to try... Aden was hers and hers alone; her pawn, her servant,
her shadow, and whether or not she could feel the binding
thread, he would serve her without complaint...
#Post#: 405384--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Imperfect Date: February 15, 2016, 5:07 pm
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Ahead of her renewed soul, Irusia felt three emotions making
themselves home to her very bones, and upon taking comfort in
her skeleton, her heart, behind the barrier around it, curled
and tightened within itself at the sheer weight of all the new
feelings, introducing themselves indecently. The first,
vengeance, giving the impression of being concerned with
Irusia’s current exiled position, when truly, it was here to
trap and lead her into ill-advised decisions, ultimately. It
geared toward bloodshed, her father’s neck detached from his
body and hanging on a pike. And as the thick fog clouding her
psyche begins to part, there’s a shift in gear, swaying towards
the second. This one, she wasn’t so familiar with so when she
discovers the aftermath of indiscretion and sin leaving a bitter
aftertaste on her tongue, she realises it can only be one thing.
Her body turns to the man beside her, the way he drops to his
knees, as still and as lifeless as a corpse, causes her eyebrows
to furrow. His lifelessness looms over her and in her stagnate
position, you can sketch out the realisation on her face that
she had compromised her own moral standards -those of value to a
thief anyway- and her violation of Aden bore a significant
responsibility on her subconscious. It screamed at her to feel.
Feel a little remorse for the man, but alas, she soon overcomes
that slight hurdle and comes to face the third emotion.
Valour. Though the woman had never been one to cower away at a
challenge or fear something so greatly to run from it, she could
physically feel the strength of a new backbone, one that would
easily withstand a battle against the older arcanes; against her
father’s supposedly imperishable army. If Aden was her pawn, she
was the Queen who controlled the game, and in this one, it
seemed there was only one ending, befitting that of royalty.
Humans would perish, they were too weak for this gamble, but the
pale haired woman would stand tall, with a crown on her head, at
the end of it all.
Yes, they owned the city. Aden, and Irusia’s city.
She gathers his hands in hers, and surely, she felt it; the
impalpable string that bound him to her. The hunger to stay by
her side, and his undeniable relinquished sense of loyalty - he
would go to the ends of the earth for her, there was no question
about it. Where she didn’t have sight, he would be her eyes, and
where her ears were too weak, he would listen. For the first
time since they made acquaintances, there is a glint of
affection in her colourless eyes as they stare into his,
unblinking and in her gestures, as a hand cups his cheek once
more, no longer interrupted by noise, by wretched ancients or
hollers of humans, and a thumb traces over his lips. It moves
down to his neck, resting over his pulse, and she smiles, a
wicked smile.
“If you so much as think of leaving,” she hisses, pulling his
face down violently, so it’s inches from hers, “so help me, I
will turn the earth upside down and scatter its inhabitants.”
Yes, they owned the city. Aden, and Irusia’s city.
And she, owned him.
#Post#: 405394--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Default User Date: February 15, 2016, 5:36 pm
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The soft and delicate hand of the woman he had been forced to
serve; to obey and care for, slipped from the point of near
intimacy against Aden's cheek, and made it full circle to a
point of tyrannical command as he was yanked towards her near
whispering lips, and bore witness to the true damnation of her
soul. Her words were like blades that tore into his mind;
pulling apart his will to run or hide, as well as crushing his
want to fight back entirely. He couldn't even find it in himself
to be angry or hate her for all she had brought him into. The
ability was beyond him and his unnatural connection to her. He
wanted to hate her; to loathe her, and yet he stood in a void
where anything involving her felt sacred and absolute. As if she
were his new goddess... Perhaps she was.
He closed his eyes whilst she spoke to him; feeling the sting of
her power at the bridge between them, and when she had finished
declaring her control, his eyes rose to meet hers and he smiled.
His head lowered out of respect; low enough to expose the bare
back of his own neck, as he placed a hand over his now darkened
heart and swore a true oath of loyalty. He swore it in each
tongue he could speak; to her through voice and mind, and when
he had finished laying his life before her, Aden rose once more
to look upon the vixen whom he now served unconditionally. Til
earth turned to ash, and ruin was reborn, he would not let the
body or mind of his goddess be daunted. It was his burden to
bear; should a life be owed, that his own soul be purged from
the world far before hers. It was with that idea in mind and
with the conviction of a cleric of old, that Aden swore his
fealty, and the same idea that danced beyond the brilliant azure
of his eyes.
"Lead the way M'lady Irusia" He spoke with a delicate caution;
wavering between nervousness and fear, as he stepped beside the
beautiful arcanist and awaited their next venture. Whether it be
burning the world whole, stealing the moon from the sky, or
killing the gods of old, Aden was prepared to test himself for
her glory... In truth, he was uncaring of why he felt so
strongly and even if he were face to face with all the things he
despised in a soul, he would not stray from her. He could not
stray from her... Or even want to... He could no more escape
her, than he could escape himself.
Adjusting the strap on his small black satchel; throwing it over
a shoulder before donning the blackened smoke-like shadows he
normally lived within, He waited patiently for instruction as
his entire form flickered into a darkened corner of reality and
nothing but his voice could be heard from within the shadowy
torrent that circled him. There in that dark oasis; where
silence lived akin to the shadows and without need for his
sight, Aden closed his eyes and paid careful attention to every
bit of information he could gather from the nearby woman. He
listened to her breathing; to the rhythmic way her chest rose
and fell, and fought to continue focusing on nothing more than
their bond as he awaited the inevitable. For her to tell him
what to do, where to go, how to act. He was certain she would
not simply let him be, or let him feel the freedom he came so
close to enjoying not so long ago, and yet he still hoped she
would at least attempt to be as docile and demure as she was
when she snared him...
#Post#: 405424--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Imperfect Date: February 16, 2016, 9:42 am
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The way her name was uttered so naturally by her new warrior,
the way it slipped from his tongue and made itself known to the
chilly air of the night, one would assume they’ve known each
other for more than a few hours. It crossed the woman’s mind at
that moment, she had no idea what the man’s name was, nor did
she have an infinite desire to know. That name belonged in the
past and it was her job to brand him a new one - one that would
have the same effects of a powerful opiate to those who, in the
near future would have the privilege to hear it. One that would
make opponents quiver with fear.
“Warrior,” yes, she was pleased, “I want to show you something.
. . let us go.”
Tonight, he would be introduced to her past life and come to
know why she had been thrown out of the singing bay - the
lengths she had gone to with the dark magic she possessed and
what had influenced the woman to stray so far and exchange
humanity’s intimate hold on her for the bitter clutch of
immorality. A secret that had been swallowed, perhaps by the
recollection of herself lying naked and feeble in her bed, a
length of punctured glass by her wrist, one that would not only
be tremendously hard to implore, but re-live and yet she know
that it couldn’t be avoided. The man beside her had sworn, with
much vigour, his devotion to her and so it was the least she
owed him; an explanation of some sort.
Another portal, a mixture of grey and coal appears to the woman,
her hesitation and unwillingness to delve into it detailed in
the stutter of her step. What lay in this distinct dimension
would not only upset her but anger the fighter -more than
compliant to follow her- by her side. She also knew that once
they passed into this threshold, time would cease to exist,
every emotion would suffocate them and drive any feeling of
safety and contentment away, therefore, one would have to be
both physically, but more than anything, mentally prepared for
the quest.
The woman stepped into it, followed closely by her companion and
the portal would close behind them the second her feet was in
contact with cold, familiar rocks. The cries of the glacial
waters resound through her hometown, that of which she had
stayed loyal to for as long as she could. It brought her joy no
longer to roam the walls of the almighty fortress of Virion
Calarook. The moon sits in the sky, and a dim light runs along
the hallway, stopping before a room with large, red doors, not
completely closed. Beyond the doors, a trusted guard of the
Kings, one with unfathomable strength and obsolete knowledge of
magic imprisons the wrists of a girl, tainted with virgin blood
as he gifts her with a night she wouldn’t forget.
Irusia’s first rebellion was committed when she was but a child.
A child made of macabre and mortar; a child following suit after
Eve’s first rebellion in the garden; a child that would not be
hushed and treated like a broken china doll.
The woman pushes the door open, to let her warrior see for
himself. The canvas, sure enough, to repulse even the strongest
of hearts, would be one of an old man penetrating a girl to the
point of death, a skinny girl with pale hair and bright, violet
eyes. Eyes that are robbed of their innocence and clenched
fingers, buried in blackened bedsheets. As the mage continues
his merciless torture, ignoring the cries and whimpers of the
girl, she clutches her pendant and suddenly there is a green
incantation gripping the old man’s neck. It hurls him back
against the wall, and he struggles against it, the colour in his
body physically washing out. The girl grabs his sword and walks
to the vanity, stepping onto a chair before digging the blade
right into his heart, using the force of her magic to break
through his iron-clad armour.
She watches, with a hint of a smile, on her otherwise lifeless
face, as the life drains away from his eyes and before he takes
his last breath, she leans forward.
“My mother did always teach me to stick ‘em with the pointy
end.”
What were five minutes seemed like five years to Irusia and when
she turns to the man, angry tears gather in the brim of her
ivory eyes. She walks past him and over to the balcony, looking
over the Kingdom, and speaks, with a tone so cold-blooded, the
wind itself scurries to find comfort from it.
“Tonight. . . we’ll take back everything.”
#Post#: 405484--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Default User Date: February 17, 2016, 7:05 am
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Aden followed without complaint; entering yet another portal
into this woman's many worlds, and when he witnessed the
savagery of her life before meeting her, he shook with fury. He
fought with every fiber of his being to contain the animalistic
rage that screamed to be let loose on the apparition of the man
before him, and yet he knew there was nothing he could do. This
window into the past was her way of showing him her trials and
her pain; feeling it in every beat of his own heart as she too
must have fought against the horrid memory, and when the man lay
slain before Aden eyes, the once-thief let the rage go and
watched his new master move. He had no idea of what horrors were
to arise or what burdens would be layed upon his chest, but he
would strike at any who opposed her without hesitation, and
further prove his loyalty through whatever means necessary.
He moved along silently; watching and following her with
cautious patience, as he took in her words and etched them into
his mind. He would be her warrior, her sword, and when she
called upon him to move or act, he would be like the shadows
themselves and swallow any who opposed her with silencing force.
It was his place now; at the side of his new master, and
although he could not fathom the idea of betraying her, he did
not hide his all too real lust to impress her and prove himself.
It was written on his face, in the beating of his heart, and no
doubt she could feel it in the strings which bound them
together...
#Post#: 405579--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Imperfect Date: February 18, 2016, 9:22 am
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The fragment of the burdens Irusia had come to deal with, the
one she had just relived was but a little peek into her former
life, nothing close to the more devastating ones she had had to
face. Irusia wasn’t so spiteful because of one thing, nay,
things began to accumulate, and with it, her anger rose with no
plans to be tamed. The King only added to it when he had grown
tired of complaints from the residents, of people accusing her
of being dark, controlled by some power they couldn’t comprehend
and when he decided to go against his own flesh and blood for
the terror that had shaken a few, war had become inevitable.
In truth, the woman’s motherland hadn’t mothered her.
As her brave warrior waits for her orders, no words exchanged
between them but his fury and her turmoil, she coils her fingers
around his, before placing her other hand on the slope of patio.
And there it was.
A guard had caught wind of her presence and was making his way
sloppily to the room they had been standing in just a few
moments ago; he was alone, that she knew for sure but why? The
woman turns to the man beside her, tilting her head back
slightly, letting the earth’s candle accentuate her high
cheekbones and sharp jawline. Enticing as she were, her
colourless archaic orbs were also petrifying – they were a
cavernous, bottomless pit of irrefutable bloodlust and hunger to
take back what belonged to her.
With ichor.
“I need you to be my eyes.”
As the last word dissipates with the wind, she puts a finger to
her lips, before taking a few steps back so there is a little
distance between them. The guard frantically pulls open the red
doors, mouth agape as he finds nothing, and quivering with fear.
He begins questioning himself, maybe he was wrong, perhaps he
hadn’t felt her and it was all a misunderstanding, caused by the
long, tiring night shifts on patrol. As he walks forward, the
rattles of his teeth become prominent and Irusia smiles, the
taste of a new victim quenching her hunger before she had even
gritted her teeth into him. How unfortunate.
“Go,” she whispers to her warrior, her body fading away,
seemingly into nothing. Nothing but black smoke left in her
wake, she appears behind the shaking guard, his archaic powers
of no use to him.
“It’s beyond me how they even thought you were qualified for
this job.”
Before he can turn to face Irusia, her nails dig into his neck,
squeezing harshly, feeling the tender skin tear and the blood
dirty her own as it slid down. She could not see it, but she
could feel it; his beating heart almost begging to be freed, the
cage around it making it harder for him to breathe, or maybe it
was her fingers around his oesophagus, who knows? As she digs
harder into the bony segments, she feels them crack under the
pressure, forcing him to drop to his knees and his eyes to roll
back into his head.
“You poor. . . poor thing.”
Nothing but humour laces her voice.
And to make her omen of war even more poetical, her free hand
drags his shoulder down, as the other around his neck yanks
upward, detaching his head from his body completely. She carries
the head to the balcony, letting his limp body fall to the floor
before hurling it across the kingdom, with all the strength she
could muster.
By the end of the week, the land would belong to Irusia.
Irusia, and her Warrior.
#Post#: 405582--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Exiled Mage
By: Default User Date: February 18, 2016, 12:54 pm
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Aden was normally hesitant; preferring to bait his prey and
weigh every option available, but with the fury and lust for
destruction brimming over the edges of his new master, he too
could taste the bittersweet bloodshed to come. His voice echoed
inside his mind as the onslought began with but one isolated
guard "The beginning or the end, I shall be as your shadow" He
would not vanish from the room instantly; waiting for Irusia to
finish with the dirty work of tearing the needless head from
atop a carrion's delight worth of wasted meat, but as she neared
the balistrade and tossed the still fear-stricken face off into
the kingdom below, he would fade into oblivion behind it.
His shadows coiled about his form; slithering and whispering
dark promises to their own master, as he washed down from the
overlook and moved from place to place. He listened to the
growing darkness at every narrow crevice; pulling the tainted
midnight with him as he traversed onward into the kingdom below.
Soon an unearthly quiet would befall all the land he had
touched, and in the wake of his maddening silence, his master
would usher in her new kingdom's beginning. Whether it all
burned before her or whether she wanted to sink it into the sea,
Aden could care less. He would swallow the land whole; listening
to every beating heart, watching every sullen child as
melancholy and mayhem spread like a plague. Their voices would
be gone, their daylight would die, and he would move amongst the
cattle like an unseen wolf... Waiting for Irusia.
For her next command; for her to but want something or someone
gone, it was what he lived for, and he would not falter as her
new warrior... He would consume all who opposed her; twisting
their world into one of unfathomable darkness. He would strip
them of their sight, of their hearing, of their hope: He would
rend them from their homes and their reality: He would leave
them in a pit of despair and watch as she reached into the
blackness to crush their very souls...
This was to be the way the new world worked, and with his master
guiding her own will through his hands and feet, they would
usurp the divine and ignite the hells with their rage.
Together...
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