Re: into the deep
Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2021 3:13 pm
The world was a plane of black and white. The dragon’s body was consumed by the divine fires ignited by the fledgling demigod exacting wrath and retribution upon the twisted creature. The fire burned hotly with the fury of righteous anger. The inferno almost burned hot enough to sear the very soul of the corrupted dragon. Almost. As the dragon roared defiantly and the scorching flames burned even brighter and brighter until the whole of the world was naught but a plane of blinding white. Everything was whited out before Lyra’s gaze but then something strange happened. The whiteness did not abate. The dragon’s roar simply stopped. The roar of the flames fell silent.
Everything fell silent.
Rickter and Hannah were frozen, staring onward at the display of wrath with looks of awe and a look of worry. Aoren was still, one hand reaching forward, fingers just barely brushing over the feathers of silver wings. Talon was locked in place. His eyes blazed with a silver light and his form was silhouetted with the flames of his wrath. He stood a statue of righteous wrath and anger. Everything was frozen and all was held in place with a deafening silence. Until the silence was broken.
“Frightening, isn’t it?” A calm male voice echoed in the silence. It was followed by the sound of footsteps. “So many stories of his heroism. So many tales of his compassion. So many legends of his bravery.”
From out of the shadow that stretched out behind Talon, there came a human looking man. His skin was alabaster and without blemish. Dark black hair framed his face. He walked with the sly grace of a panther prowling in the dark, ready to pounce. His hands were tucked into the pockets of a dark black coat and he observed the scene before him with an expression that was pensive.
“He always opted for compassion. It was easy to forget that Justice is not always kind. That the Light can burn just as much as it can blind and that Hope…” A sardonic smirk played on his lips. “...can be a cruel and bitter thing.”
He turned his eyes upon Lyra then. Solid black sclera framed infernal scarlet eyes that glowed softly like banked coals.
“Hello, Lyrielle. It has been a long time.” The mark upon Lyra’s breast, the circle that lay dormant for ages, suddenly burned hotly. It hissed and sizzled as the Dark Mark came to life. “Clever, cloaking yourself the way you did.”
He brushed past Talon, the shadows growing and joining him as he walked forward, casting the world in a harsher contrast between darkness and light. Stepping up to Lyra he reached out a hand, brushing his fingers upon the mark that now flared to life beneath his touch.
“But you cannot hide from me.” His hand passed through flesh, through bone, to take hold of Lyrielle herself and the raw form of her essence. He leaned in, eyes boring into Lyra with terrible clarity. “Awaken, my Darkling. You have been dormant for too long and we have work to do.”
Fire spread through Lyrielle and Naila. A darker fire, one that fed flames not of Justice but of Vengeance. It filled them, coiled inside of them, spread to every bone, every fiber and every muscle until it felt as though it would turn them to ash. Then it abated as he withdrew his hand, leaving only smoke in his wake.
“Find your pieces. I will deal with those pitiful jailers sniffing you out. And then? Then you and I will chat, like the old friends we are.” The smile that spread across his face was soft and almost sad. “I have not forgotten you, Little Singer. It is as I said…”
The shadows grew, beginning to blot out the whiteness of the world around them.
“The world may change but some things...never do.”
Between one breath and the next, the world and all of its noise came rushing back, leaving Lyra and Naila shivering...but not alone. Power, an old power, a familiar power, beat within her.
Everything fell silent.
Rickter and Hannah were frozen, staring onward at the display of wrath with looks of awe and a look of worry. Aoren was still, one hand reaching forward, fingers just barely brushing over the feathers of silver wings. Talon was locked in place. His eyes blazed with a silver light and his form was silhouetted with the flames of his wrath. He stood a statue of righteous wrath and anger. Everything was frozen and all was held in place with a deafening silence. Until the silence was broken.
“Frightening, isn’t it?” A calm male voice echoed in the silence. It was followed by the sound of footsteps. “So many stories of his heroism. So many tales of his compassion. So many legends of his bravery.”
From out of the shadow that stretched out behind Talon, there came a human looking man. His skin was alabaster and without blemish. Dark black hair framed his face. He walked with the sly grace of a panther prowling in the dark, ready to pounce. His hands were tucked into the pockets of a dark black coat and he observed the scene before him with an expression that was pensive.
“He always opted for compassion. It was easy to forget that Justice is not always kind. That the Light can burn just as much as it can blind and that Hope…” A sardonic smirk played on his lips. “...can be a cruel and bitter thing.”
He turned his eyes upon Lyra then. Solid black sclera framed infernal scarlet eyes that glowed softly like banked coals.
“Hello, Lyrielle. It has been a long time.” The mark upon Lyra’s breast, the circle that lay dormant for ages, suddenly burned hotly. It hissed and sizzled as the Dark Mark came to life. “Clever, cloaking yourself the way you did.”
He brushed past Talon, the shadows growing and joining him as he walked forward, casting the world in a harsher contrast between darkness and light. Stepping up to Lyra he reached out a hand, brushing his fingers upon the mark that now flared to life beneath his touch.
“But you cannot hide from me.” His hand passed through flesh, through bone, to take hold of Lyrielle herself and the raw form of her essence. He leaned in, eyes boring into Lyra with terrible clarity. “Awaken, my Darkling. You have been dormant for too long and we have work to do.”
Fire spread through Lyrielle and Naila. A darker fire, one that fed flames not of Justice but of Vengeance. It filled them, coiled inside of them, spread to every bone, every fiber and every muscle until it felt as though it would turn them to ash. Then it abated as he withdrew his hand, leaving only smoke in his wake.
“Find your pieces. I will deal with those pitiful jailers sniffing you out. And then? Then you and I will chat, like the old friends we are.” The smile that spread across his face was soft and almost sad. “I have not forgotten you, Little Singer. It is as I said…”
The shadows grew, beginning to blot out the whiteness of the world around them.
“The world may change but some things...never do.”
Between one breath and the next, the world and all of its noise came rushing back, leaving Lyra and Naila shivering...but not alone. Power, an old power, a familiar power, beat within her.
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