Within the relentless wall of the caves, with every step, the darkness continued to devour me. Even for a dark elf, the tenebrosity threatened to engulf my sense of self, while each nerve and sinew in my body shuddered at the nearness of the unholy dead that ruled the place.
Somewhere deep beneath, where nature withered away, receding to give way to the darkness to claim the land, lay buried under countless years, an entrance so wondrous and extravagant and seeped in darkness, that it compelled supernatural forces to come and revere it. The door guarding, almost like a relic, so profound that each heartbeat quivered with each step towards its proximity. And it lay slightly open.
The wide door, carved from obsidian stone and strengthened with sanguine magic, the blood drawn, willingly and unwillingly, stood open, barely wide enough for two bodies, but not for not for three. It was unclear whether the opening of the door marked the entry to a deeper abyss. Or simply an exit that shall take me closer to the heart of the infernal mystery.
One step closer.
Two more steps.
Then it hit.
The heavy oppressive aura emanation from the opening was suffocating. Neither wind nor any sound carried from within and yet, the disturbing presence lurked. Almost as if even in the grips of death, the powerful entity still lurked inside.
Slowly, clenching my palms, till my knuckles blanched, on the handle of Adjuration, my trusted urumi, I could for twenty breaths. Summoning an iron will, reinforced by the alacrity flowing spilling from Lyria's gift, entered through the open door.
In the expanse beyond, tenebrous silence mingled with heavy ashen cloud of domination reigned. With each advancing step, an ephemeral tendril of exhaustion wound around me, dragging me into oblivion.
Attuning the gift of my dark elven eyes, I attempted to peer through the darkness, and even the birth right of my heritage failed. This was no natural darkness. My mind reeled, almost about to succumb to exhaustion. My chest burned with pain. Blood vessels expanded, threatening to burst from within. Painfully, I forced my tightly clenched jaws to pry open, drawing in a lungful of air.
I have come to far. Despite the rational part of my brain screaming otherwise, I could not return. Not without knowing the fate of Taltil and Rodo.
Reining the urge to retreat, despite the aching, pleading plea from every long dormant sense calling for my body to halt. The sensation was peculiar as was my will to not surrender to the ever tightening circle of blackness. I pressed on, till the motionless form of Rodo and Taltil a few paces ahead, with their backs turned towards me came.
At the nearness Rodo's features were aghast. The power alpha werewolf now bore an expression of abject fear eroding through his very form. Even in his catatonic state, the nerves of his frame twitched in desperation. His mind, clearly sapped by the sanguine magic saturating the space.
Beyond Rodo, Taltil stood frozen. A steady stream of tears pooling under her feet. Her lips trembled, faster than the eye could perceive. Words pushed and yet unheard. Words illegitimate and futile. Plea and bargains, unanswered.
Despite their motionless forms, both their eyes, filled with vibrant light, soon to be cast out. Fear and panic roving their emotions, holding them a thrall.
And beyond them, a row of more gargoyle statues stood, followed by an uncharacteristic defiance creeping in my thoughts.
Maapu, the fearless hobgoblin commander, he who faced gargoyles with broken weapons, deserting the unhallowed grounds.
Rodo, the alpha of a pack, a creature of nightmare tales made flesh and blood, now a harmless pup.
Sanguine spells are intricate and elaborate, defying the notion of usual established schools of magic. -- what stood before us were imbibued with the potent of sanguine spells.
Dreadlords! Not gargoyles. Those statues we liberated from the encroaching creepers outside, and those that stood harmlessly arrayed before me, are Dreadlords. The hollow of eyes invited a host of horror as vile as the maliciousness of the sanguine spell that crafted them, to settle. Locking the minds, and the will of all, in a swirling mists caressing and tormenting with horrifying images -- images designed from the deep primal fear lurking in the dark recess of the individual -- making for a potent sanguine blend of abject fear and domination.
With five DreadLords outside and the few arrayed ahead, we were in the locus of a sanguine spell. A powerful one at that.
The clear fact staring at my face was evident. There would be no salvation for Rodo or Taltil, without the powerful lattice of sanguine spellcraft dismantled...from inside. Then, with the revelation, an uncharacteristic defiance crept into my stance, filling me with a strong inclination to venture beyond the limits, just beyond this unfathomable veil of terrors, to unmake the lingering foulness of ages past.
I expected a dark and desolate corner, a vile place of shadows, of tenebrous beasts stalking, of rotten death and decay.
Instead, a hazy light swirled around my peripheries, brighter and nearer, drawing me closer. The stark contrast between haze and shadow slowly dissipated, allowing space for the invading brightness to settle. The light was stronger and more dazzling than I could imagine. Then I saw her. The source of all the exquisite radiance, standing tall, brightly lit and almost gliding, Delyn!
My daughter was a vision of pristine resplendent. Soft and sweet on the senses, on her exposed face, a layer of opulent hue, like diamond-dust freckled speckled across the bridge of her nose, apple cheeks and to the fine line joining her slender jawline to her ears. Then, she smiled. Smile, like a sparkle of joy that bloomed, and exploded, spreading its message, danced across her lips. My heart ached. I could only wish that she beamed me those smile when I had her. As if we shared some private communication, her smile warmed my mothers heart, lighting up the dullness of my soul to gentle rays of hope.
Delyn took on small steps. A whirl of soft grass cascaded from the earth to rise up. The blades of grass beneath her slowly danced, tickling the flat of her feet, willingly. Her toes gently dug into the carpet of moss and greenery, swaying in delight with the soft feeling. Delyn exuded a gracefulness and elegance that defied any language. When she stepped forward, peacefully carrying the faint flutter of silk that only added to accentuate her modesty. The material flowed behind her gently in flowing movements, a mirror of perfect proportion, structure and design that even all the riches of my house could not procure.
I was awestruck and could do nothing to hold back the sob. My daughter was beautiful. She looked so peaceful, calm and serene.
Delyn stood there majestically. Her dark eyes roamed with otherworldly grace, overshadowing her regality. Her eyes reached mine and without a modicum of acknowledgement passed over. Her smile, brightening further as her eyes focused beyond me to the stirring form. Not even a flicker of recognition for me. The innocent smile of Delyn only further intensified as the tall lambent form passed me, reaching towards my daughter.
Tall, imposing and awe inspiring was the masculine form, even when viewed from the back. A host of all things radiant and dignified coalesced on his presence, settling, seeking refugee in him. Strength residing in his slim yet titanic shoulders, billowed out, undulating through his frame. Each movement he made, smooth, from head to toe, always composed, a display of pure control over his own transient form.
Light weaved itself into an ephemeral fabric twisting around his frame. The intensity of its presentation paled Vitalia's transient attempt at modesty. Comparing Vitalia's transient clothing to him would be almost akin to comparing a beggar to a royalty. His steady steps were filled with confidence of an omnipotent. The mere sight and the swell of overpowering will emanating from him would have left any lesser mortal breathless and unable to move.
Where the flat of his bare feet met the ground, vivid verdant growth sprouted. Fountains of emerald spilled forth, dazzling with allure of pure nature rose. A healthy growth of vegetation intertwined and entwined in what could only be defined as a nature defying symmetry. A perfect indescribable symmetry and the surreal order it dictated in its manifestation followed his wake.
When he finally reached the tall raven haired form of Delyn, he stopped. His hand rose slowly, towards her. The act, a sheer ferocity of male perfection, did not escape me. The adorable smile of Delyn only widened further with his closeness. It almost mocked me with its goodlike prowess.
Delyn slowed edged, nudging closer to his touch. To the pure Delyn, his towering figure held a sway with such overwhelming aura, a promise of protection and peace...and appreciation.
He placed his hand over her. Gently patting her head, smoothing her long silken hair, a reassuring gesture, adding warmth to her tranquility. His hands resting low, fingers brushing against the softness of Delyn's cheek with graceful authority, tracing a fine line, not to her neck, but lower and rested on her shoulders with a gentle squeeze.
My own complexity of my failed childhood was slow on the uptake of the touch. Despite the dazzles, sparkles and radiance of the two beings, that touch carried, conveyed, a simple and raw emotion, for his was the touch of a father.
Delyn relaxed herself, allowing herself to sink deeper into his presence, savouring the contact.
There was something mysterious about the position he adopted, yet there was warmth for my daughter. His stance revealed vulnerability, like any most fathers do it in front of their children, and even those not of mortal lineage are not exempted from it. There was no intimidation or antagonism emanating from his gestures. If anything both their stance revealed an innate respect towards the other.
Slowly, Delyn took his hands and led him to the edge of the cliff that manifested out of nothingness in this surreal realm. Her gaze fell to the bottom of the cliff and then turned to him, with eyes seeking approval.
Below, only the sight of utter carnage greeted. Limbs of all variety, mortals, elven, human, dwarven, orcish and alike, as well as demonic and celestial, tainted the grounds, their wantonly spilled blood anointed the very ground in equal measure.
Then, came the shrill cry of Ryleval and beneath the mortally wounded gryphon laid the lifeless form of Celerim. The youthful charm in his face, now replaced by the grim lines of decaying death. Beside him, devoid of all mirth, stood Savvas the younger, staring at Delyn with eyes lacking light.
Far beyond Celerim, strewn about erratically, laid the corpses of Taltil, Maapu and Theko. Rodo was a mangled mess of flayed fur. Zaehran struggled, suspended in air while impaled by three spears of light. Finn lay a few paces apart. His face still almost too youthful, boyish, unmangled, a serene expression on his face and a single deep cut across his chest. Only Merowyn's head remained, the rest of his body being assimilated in a putrid sea of decaying limbs.
Only Arlene crawled. Her spine, shattered mercilessly, made it impossible for the stubborn half-elven ranger to stand. Even with a part of her skull bashed, her face, severely mangled, missing a single eye, she held her resolve -- to reach Delyn.
Yet, it was the expression in Delyn's peaceful visage that instilled abject horror in me. She smiled, at her father, harboring a hope to relish in the praises showered.
"Delyn..." A huge lump of burning ember formed in my throat, choking words.
"Perhaps, you should see the illusion for what it is," came a voice, undoubtedly masculine with a rich timbre.
Clad in white with cerulean blue sleeves and tied with golden cuffs and chains in what could only be an ornately tailored suit, he approached. A smile, too hard to interpret, he did wear like a second skin.
"Rylonvirah, " he gave a pause, and his silvery grey eyes gained light drew towards them and continued with his attention still occupied on the scene."Or may I call you Rillie?"
"Rille," I spat through tightly clenched teeth, "is for family. We are not."
He closed the distance between us, taking not-given familiarity as if the very concept was an alien concept. At the closeness, his features clear, vivid and distinct as the day light and yet, remarkably indistinct.
Reading my thoughts, the stranger added, "It would be futile to perceive my features, just as with him." His head nodded in the direction of Delyn's father. "I would advice you against attempting either."
He turned, slowly drinking in the form of my daughter and the other being who so callously took my place. A subtle smile, barely perceptible, brightened on his face. "Look carefully, he is soon about to reveal his marvel."
Delyn's eyes sparkled with sheer undistilled admiration, that young girls reserved for their father, as thick tendrils of light spread from his back, soon wrapping around her in a protective embrace. The warmth enveloped my daughter in a divine cocoon. Wisps coils of light solidified to pearlescent wings with crystalline feathers, feet levitating above, he rose, gathering his glory.
"Even as a twisted forgotten memory he still retains his virtue," said the stranger. An emotion, too real, primal and conflicted spilled from him without the barest hint for concealment.
"A memory?"
"Yes, an extremely forgotten memory." A sudden twinkle of amusement found a sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps, for a valid reasons they are suppressed." He laughed, and it held a strong undertone, like rolling thunder, resonating from the depths of my soul.
"I apologise," he said.
My best efforts to seek falsity in his claim failed. There was only unburdened veracity carried in his words.
"Please accept my apologise. It was not my intention to unleash my voice upon you." The stranger took a moment and leaned to gather a bright violet flower in his hands. Twisting the peduncle, tenderly between his fingers, he considered its perfection. "Could I, somehow persuade you to indulge me for a moment?"
"But you are a memory?"
"No. He is a memory. I am a manifestation." With a snap of his fingers, he pushed the form of Delyn and her celestial sire farther away, relishing in the effect that his tiny morsel of the power he commands had. "But for the purpose, even the sliver of power imbibed in this manifestation will be do."
"So, you are a real being intruding on my memory? uninvited?"
"Intrusion implies uninvited. Not mutually exclusive." He extended hands, palms open, expecting me to take them without a question. Only my refusal met his offer. "I presume, I have not given you a reason to trust me."
"No, on the contrary, you have given every reason to mistrust you."
"Would you be partial to believe if I request that you trust me?" Granted, the stranger had just demonstrated a meagre fraction of his abilities, but I could not sense any threat from him. "I am, or I was a simple traveler. Even a prisoner, until I transformed my prison to a realm of my own image, became my own realm, by simply channeling my own will. But he..."
The stranger let his words trail...unfinished.
"Will he claim my daughter?" Shattering the shackling manacles, I finally gave words to my fear.
The stranger shrugged. "He is...." His lips pursed tightly. Wordlessly beckoning me to walk a few steps with him, he eventually continued. "He is disaggregated. It would have been impossible without our involvement. The very nature is one of heaven's well guarded kept secrets. The fear of him transforming his very prison to his advantage, just as what I did, forced drastic measures. But beings like him always have a contingency plan and the echoes will sunder the mortal realms."
"So he is imprisoned?"
"A realm fractured, strange and beyond the order of natural events, where law of causality are rather not mandatory." His voice was as deep as the thoughts he immersed himself in. "A multichronal distortion forces his essence to be locked in an eternal cycle to consume its own."
"A worthy tale but perhaps, you are another figment from the forgotten recess of my subconscious given form."
He chuckled. No malice, just genuine curiosity devoid of judgement. "You are indeed a strange mortal. It is time to play the story closer to home. If that is your doubt, then let me pull you from your own subconscious to my realm. Would you kindly accept my hospitality? Though it is not without its risk. Even as a manifestation, I risk a lot by being here, should any of my fellow Circle Princes be aware of my involvement."
Every fibre of my being shivered at the revealation of his identity. Even now, his image was a simplicity, complete, vibrant and almost indistinguishable from any mortals roaming aimlessly in the narrow life span. That is the skin, he chose to wear. However, the incongruence of his singular behaviour struck a dissonance in me.
"Why would I trust a demon spawn?"
My taunt only elicited bemused smile. No anger. No rage. Only earnest amusement manifested in him. "A misconception and extremely surreal that you, among all beings, should mentioned it. It is true that I have sired demons, but I am not a demonspawn myself." His silver grey eyes twinkled with unconcealed curiosity as he considered Adjuration resting on my hips. "Would you allow me to share, even if it were for the briefest of moment, the vision that I have created?"
"Never."
"Lowly demons dredging through the outer planes lie, con, deceit their way to the paltry wage of mortal souls. Devilkins cannot lie. I am a circle prince. Words untrue cannot be uttered and words, even carelessly whispered ones, become an oath and I am bound to them."
Cornered, in a construct of my own nightmares and locked with a fiend far terrible to obliterate realms on a whim, I reached to the only source of comfort and defense.
"I ask again would place your trust in me, for a narrow instance. My current invitation does not align with harming you."
I released Adjuration.
"A bold and surprising choice." Gone was the trust inducing voice and the earnestness in his look and instead, a sort of child-like curiosity reveled in his ageless face. As he turned, his stance was languid, almost belittling the threat I posed. "Come, such acts sully us both."
My grip on Adjuration was unrelenting.
His eyes, saturated with the radiance of a pale moonlight glow, considered me. Only sheer mirth of an unspoken shared humour resided there. Adjuration fell from my hands. Writhing and slithering, Lyria's precious gift transformed, into a serpent of nightmarish form. Dark crepuscular scales, and corded mass of nerves and veins, exposed on its crawling mass.
"These artefacts do not have any power over me. On the contrary, I exert my influence over all."
My fingers sought the empty air, grasping at the dearth left by Adjuration's absence. An ignominious wave of being exposed, weak, vulnerable and powerless before the powerful being, crashed through me, crushing my will. But the serpent that was Adjuration, coiled around by knees, slithering nudging, and eventually in a feebly attempt to crawl its way to my hands -- where it belonged.
"Interesting. Even with my will imposed, it seeks its rightful owner." The circle prince chuckled. "Taking the risk to be here was worth it. Thank you Rylonvirah, you have given me a lot to absorb."
My name on his lips felt wrong.
"But that only increased my appetite for answers. I wonder what effect your presence will have? Come, I would like to see how this plays out."
Fed from nothingness, a new vista, grand and horizon drowning, materialised. A walled city of concentric circles till the eye could discern, spread beneath me.
"Do not try to stare at it." Warned the Circle Prince. "I have promised your safety now. The mortal mind will rupture trying to perceive the gifts of this realm."
He crossed the grounds of colossal white crystalline ice, to the edge of the floating shard that we found ourselves in and beckoned again. "Lets us make hast before prying eyes discover your presence here."
His words were calm but not the scenario. There was something terribly wrong with it. It had none of the form of reality. Everything was utterly detached from everything around me. As the titanic shard drifted through, propelled by the singular will of the one who spirited me to his realm, space twisted, turned and distorted as distance lost its meaning. Like recollecting from a long distant past, the feeling of holding something tangible in a dream, or a nightmare, remembered yet wholly forgotten.
"Do not push you senses. Do not trust your eyes," cautioned the Circle Prince. "It is your cognitive trying to protect your mind by interpreting the unexplainable."
"Interpret?" my voice fell. Even that felt strange. Like trying to recall a dream with absolute clarity and once awakened, everything relevant became fragmented. "Is it why you brought me here to see how my mind interprets your realm?"
He clicked his tongue with careful dismissal. "On the contrary, I would to know how your presence would be interpreted. You should go first. My presence..." He gestured to another huge floating piece of rock -- barren with little in terms of vegetation or life form -- on which perched a tiny form. "...is rejected here."
"You are rejected within your own realm."
"Yes," said the powerful lord of the abyssal realm. "But only here. This is beyond my control."
With shaky limbs, I hopped onto the surreal piece of pocket realm. Any moment, I expected the ground to split, either opening its ravenous maw to swallow or to spew massive titanic beings to torment by helpless form. None of my fears were true. Instead, the tiny figure turned, revealing a small demoness. A child. She pranced clumsily in my direction.
"What trick is this?" I asked the Circle Prince who only shrugged.
"Just as I expected." Then he took a step, inviting himself to the floating citadel of the demon child. "She allows you. No. Accompanied by you, she even tolerates my presence now."
"Who is this child?"
"I find it endearing that we should discuss her identity."
The child-demoness reached me over the sound of his voice. Extending her tiny arms, she wrapped herself around my legs. Her face, hidden by unkempt hair, buried deep in legs, while she mewled with content.
"She wants you to sit." said the Circle Prince, still maintaining a respectable distance from us both. Then he paused to consider Adjuration and with a flick of his wrist, Adjuration fell, transformed again, into a wreath of flowers. "There." His voice too low. "More appropriate for her."
Picking Adjuration, I sat on a flat rock on the barren landscape. The demon child, slowly with steps, uncertain and enthusiastic, hoisted herself, to sit on my lap. She squirmed and turned her head. I ignored the pain of her horn sinking into my breast.
Facing the Circle Prince, she said, "Why are you still here? I want you gone." Her voice, an unlikely amalgam, childish and indignant.
"I am merely an observer," he responded. No trace of the powerful being challenged in his own realm lingered.
She ignored him and squirmed again to turn in my lap. Almost kneeling she raised her tiny form to face me with her brilliant eyes of mercurial grey. "Rhea." She said.
"Rhea," I repeated. "That is a beautiful name for a beautiful child." Brushing her tangled mess of hair, I placed Adjuration, almost too big for her, on her head. Adjuration sat on her, perfectly, almost too perfectly, like a lost infant finding its parent.
"Please call my name again. I love when you push my name from your lips." Terror of a different sort, a fear that I had not known, stirred inside her. Her words, though their tone childish, their implied meaning was disturbing.
Rhea gently caressed my cheeks with her tiny fingers, relishing in the smoothness of my skin, almost tracing a line towards my neck.
I hissed, drawing a sharp breath and winced in pain.
"Is my touch not perceivable enough?" she asked, the true meaning convoluted in layers of innocence and curiosity.
"Even as a demoness, you are a child. I cannot perceive anything."
The Circle Prince's face bore an all knowing smirk, as if he could bear open my soul and expose the secrets roaming within.
"If I were older would you perceive my touch?" she asked.
I shook my head in protest. I sought refugee in the knowledge that twisted temptation is a basic tenet of this realm, and resist it, I must.
The child's expression of disappointment revealed a flicker of sadness, then she scooted closer and hugged my neck. One hand stretched across my chest, grabbing the soft fabric of my armour. Slowly tugging at it. A single lone tear drop escaped her eyes.
I gulped hard. Could feel my cheeks burning red. Forced myself to speak, without betraying the turmoil inside me.
"I have a daughter, much older than you." I sought to fill myself with the memory of Delyn. Betting on the belief that thoughts of my daughter could curb the infectious sentiment seeping inside.
"Your eyes for Delyn is that of a mothers eyes. I do not ask that for me," said Rhea, he tiny voice wracked with sobs.
"You watched... Delyn?" I stammered. My control on my own sanity was slipping, like grasping sands of a hourglass with the bare hands.
"You stopped calling me by name," she pleaded.
"Rhea," The words came naturally to me and unnatural given the context.
"No silly. I do not watch. I am a prisoner here. There are walls though you do not see it." Tears slid down her cheeks, while a war of attrition raged inside. The unyielding urge to gather the poor demon child, to stroke her hair and wipe her tears and the relentless fear of succumbing.
I rose up to stand. Unsure if the situation would take a dangerous turn.
"Will you abandon me?" she sobbed, still holding on to me. "Please, do not."
"What travesty is this?" I screamed, unheeding to my own tears spilling, at the Circle Prince.
"Again, I am a mere observer," said the Circle Prince.
Rhea seemed to have sensed my turmoil too, as she let go of her hold on the fabric of my armour and curled herself close to my side on the ground. Noticing the look of abject terror on my face, she wiped away her own tears.
Looking back at her tiny form, quivering on the ground, my heart slowly gave up. I scooped the little demoness in my hands.
"Please can you put me down on the ground." She asked in a small whisper. "I want to stand on my own legs, alone. As always."
I saw the Circle Prince walking closer to her as Rhea slowly composed herself. She dusted imaginary lint of her rags and gazed at me a moment later. Despite the grime and dirt covered face and her very clear demonic form, her silvery grey eyes, considered me, filling me with a familiar warmth.
"Rils, if you wish to be gone, then leave." With a move, too quick to be discernible to the eye, she thrust Adjuration in my hand. "Take Adjuration with you. My promise to you will always be yours."
While I felt myself slowly sinking under swampy molasses of realisation wrought by her words, the Circle Prince reached Rhea. "Rhea," he said, offering his little finger for her to grasp.
"Do not call me Rhea." The child demoness folded her arms, indignantly, refusing his offer. "I am Lyriendria to you. Now, I want to both gone."
When Taltil found me, I was curled up, almost catatonic and shivering, covered in a filth of my own bile and vomit -- and clutching a wreath of flowers.
This one is for a contemporary GL with a slight sci-fi setting. (Planned: 150k workds, written: 50K, Full outline: Worked.)
This one is for The Red Empress's Bride. (Full Outline : Basic, Planned: 90k, Written : - )
