What I want 
49th Ash 121
Comfort and safety are always a welcome feeling for nights when a boy just wants to sleep his cares away. No need to stalk scum and gutter trash for lifting their hands at innocents and worrying about some tentacular abomination that dwelled in the murky deeps of a sewer. Everything is at peace and now a boy can relax in the safety of his cupboard.
His Lady was once hard at work with studies but her pen scratches had ceased and now every living body in the room was asleep. Drifting away to some fantastic scape of empty promises and fleeting glory.
Yshvold hates dreaming more than starving, fighting a losing battle, or being humiliated. Those things he can combat with all his might, righting the wrongs against him. Dreams are fleeting and show him a life he will never have. They come as chaos as several different versions of him are thought up and give him perspective on "what it". Honestly he would prefer the night terrors, at least he would wake up before the horror begins.
Tonight would be no different is seems.
Once upon a time a small boy was found dying in a gutter. His grey horns did nothing to scare away the armor-clad man as he is scooped up in his arms and taken to a guardhouse for care. He is fed, held, and shown the parental love he has never known.
It is good.
For a time the boy is allowed to act on his own and explores the city of Kalzasi without hiding himself from the people. A man at a fruit stall calls him over and offers an apple for free. The boy can only blush in joy with an innocent smile as he takes the gift in good graces, the brilliant blue sapphire of his eyes shine brighter than his pure white skin.
All the people around him part ways and allow him to walk through the crowd with ease. They respect his personal space but some show him affection with passing pats on the head and it brings him even more joy to be seen like this.
Life is perfect. He can scarcely remember the time he spent in the Middens anymore as his foster parent brought him in and gave him the life he deserved after his trails of survival. A home with his wife and a sibling, proper food, and love.
Soon the boy grew and was able to wield a weapon. He picked up two daggers and instinctually dropped them. For some reason they caused him great panic as using them might bring out some dark beast that laid dormant in his soul. Then his foster father brought him a short sword that matched his size.
It is good.
The foster father, adorned in the colors of a sky guard, brought his young ward with him to a guardhouse and his compatriots welcomed the boy with enthusiasm. They showed him many things he could do with a sword, none of which required taking a life, and helped him steady his footwork. None took issue when the boy accidentally siphoned away one of the mages spells out of curiosity and even helped him study his powers, warning him not to use them to much.
Life is good.
Once upon a time a boy was cradled in the arms of a woman. Her grey horns crowned her head just as his did and she sang a song to him in some strange language he couldn't understand. The boy was old enough to perceive the things around him and understood that they lived in squalor. She held him close and waited for a man to come back with gold or food, anything to sustain the little family.
Her face is a blur but her voice is clear as day. The words are unfamiliar, but soothing, and the radiant blue of her eyes matched his as they shared this moment of trust and kindness. The love of a mother.
It is good.
He remembers this moment and finds himself dreaming of it from time to time. She will leave this day because the man did not return, and she will disappear as well. The boy will be alone and will have to learn quick to survive. His life will be hard and demanding. With his own hands he will kill many people for scraps, or simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but this is not what is happening.
The man returned with a sack of gold coins. Not copper, nor silver, but honest to gods gold. They will leave this place and live somewhere that accepts them, a life where a boy could grow up happy and healthy with the family he never knew.
This man and woman packed their things and she held the boy close as they ran out of the sewer city with all haste. The man was a skilled fighter and nothing could get in the way of him and the prospect of a better life for his family.
Every rat, every slime, and every beast the Middens could throw at him was sliced in twain as they rushed out. It would only be seconds before they would reach the end of the tunnel and true freedom.
But that is not meant to be.
At the end of the tunnel, where he knew the exit to be, lied darkness. The quiet around them was broken only by the dripping of water and intense feeling of dread over his body. He knew what was coming but the man would defeat it. Rats scurried past their feet in droves until there were none and suddenly the man was gone.
The woman and boy stared in frozen fear at the pitch black nothing in front of them. The boy knew this fear but could not stop it from controlling his body. The beastly rage that overtook him in some other life is absent and only the innocence that had been ripped from him in that other life could act on flight.
His mother however acted. Wherever she had amassed the aether from is a mystery but the walls were coated in a blue crystal sheen and within the darkness was the sounds of something being impaled upon spikes. Now they could leave and the man would return from the shadows with the monsters head, they could have the life he needed to keep himself from losing his way.
But that is not how the world works.
From the creeping dark came a sinister laugh. It started slow and low and the gurgling of a drowning man as some undertone of his voice froze the boys soul. He could do nothing but watch as the gold eyes shined like malicious marbles.
The woman screamed when it showed her the head of the man and soon her leg was taken from under her. She threw the boy and screamed for him to run until her screams were cut short by a sickening crunch. She too was taken from him.
It is bad.
The brilliant blue of his eyes slowly crept to a pitch black nothing, somehow darker than the void in front of him. He could feel it, the darkness that waited for him inside for him to awaken. Everything that he was meant to be in that dream cracked as the monster that haunted him took its steps towards him. Its coat fell down to the water as the tentacles on its back waved slowly behind him. The gaping maw laughed at his helplessness as it held the bloodied heads of the woman and man.
The boy looked upon this monster and soon the fear was gone. There was nothing to replace it as his emotions failed to process the situation in front of him. A monster robbed him of a happy life, took away the things that he needed to be something more, and now mocks him with the lifeless heads of two people that cared for him.
He will not let this be.
The boy's innocent face cracked and pieces began to fall into the sewer water beneath him. Yshvold begun to show as the monster crept closer and closer and its overwhelming aura washed over him. Sparks of rage shown in his eyes as the cracks in his face grew larger and each piece that fell grew in size. Half of a boy's face was gone, the horror in its eyes dying in the failing light, and Yshvold's wrathful glare pushed back the awful aether the monster gave off.
He could not fight this thing as a person, so he should be a monster.
Just as he thought that a hand grabbed his and pulled him back. Another boy with grey horns, in sky guard armor, dragged him through the muck with desperate eyes. He told the boy and Yshvold to not give in, he was sure that is what he said, and pulled him away as a group of guards rushed to his aid.
The shattered boy did not need to look to know the guards did not stand a chance and screams filled the tunnel around them as this new boy pulled them away. He knew the boy's intentions and could not go along with them, this was not him.
Then with the final piece gone the shattered boy went with it, Yshvold was free. It must be this way, no other path will suit him.
Yshvold pulled his arm away and felt the strong aether from the beast and looked down on the guard boy. All the guard could do is fall back in horror at what Yshvold was, and it was good.
He sucked in the aether around him and felt the power surge in his body. He knew not if he could do this but at this moment this was his world and the monster was not welcome in it. Turning around slowly to find the beast face to face with him did nothing to intimidate Yshvold. It screamed in his face and he stared it down.
It had no power over him in this place, he will not allow it.
Wrath had built to an explosive rate and vengeance would only be sated with the absolute destruction of this monster. No, not death, he would torture it, make it feel a new world of pain and misery, for thinking it was above him.
With a single thought chains of aether conjured and shot from the walls, capturing it as though they were the tunnel worms he was so careful around. They did not rip the monster apart but kept him in place, waiting whatever ill fate Yshvold would start with as he flashed the steel of a single dagger in his off hand.
Overpowering control propelled his wrath forward and a crazed smile flashed across his face, with psychotic eyes to match the demon that waits for his true awakening to the dark world that has been pulling at him from birth.
He would have his revenge, one piece of flesh at a time. He would be the monster the world sees him to be, and he will smile.
But this felt wrong.
A guard, an innocent, a monster, or maybe a hero. All of these things are something he thinks he can be, or perhaps wishes is the better word, and all of these things are something he desires.
A woman's hand touches his shoulder and the smile fades. Then his foster father's hand touches his other and his wrath vanishes without a trace. Yshvold looks up to the monster and it is gone, instead the thing that is chained up is the boy that had shattered. He is crying, screaming to be let down, and calling for his mother and father.
The boy guard stands beside him with pity in his eyes for both Yshvold and the chained up boy. He knew not what Yshvold would do, but a decision needed to be made. Yshvold could not stand in the twilight between dusk and dawn forever or the world itself may extinguish his light for his hesitation.
This is what it means to be a monster. Not to kill the horrors that threatened him and becoming more powerful, but to kill something that is never meant to die.
To show no mercy to the weak or strong that would pursue him, he would have to become the thing that hunted him when he was once weaker than most.
He didn't know what he wanted to do with the chained boy but he must decide now. Yshvold's hand raised in a fist that eclipsed the boy from his sight and the chains shook violently.
What he wanted, what he needed, he thought about those things for as long as he lived but if this is what he needed to do to become powerful then maybe he wants to be a...
...
He woke up.
His Lady was once hard at work with studies but her pen scratches had ceased and now every living body in the room was asleep. Drifting away to some fantastic scape of empty promises and fleeting glory.
Yshvold hates dreaming more than starving, fighting a losing battle, or being humiliated. Those things he can combat with all his might, righting the wrongs against him. Dreams are fleeting and show him a life he will never have. They come as chaos as several different versions of him are thought up and give him perspective on "what it". Honestly he would prefer the night terrors, at least he would wake up before the horror begins.
Tonight would be no different is seems.
Once upon a time a small boy was found dying in a gutter. His grey horns did nothing to scare away the armor-clad man as he is scooped up in his arms and taken to a guardhouse for care. He is fed, held, and shown the parental love he has never known.
It is good.
For a time the boy is allowed to act on his own and explores the city of Kalzasi without hiding himself from the people. A man at a fruit stall calls him over and offers an apple for free. The boy can only blush in joy with an innocent smile as he takes the gift in good graces, the brilliant blue sapphire of his eyes shine brighter than his pure white skin.
All the people around him part ways and allow him to walk through the crowd with ease. They respect his personal space but some show him affection with passing pats on the head and it brings him even more joy to be seen like this.
Life is perfect. He can scarcely remember the time he spent in the Middens anymore as his foster parent brought him in and gave him the life he deserved after his trails of survival. A home with his wife and a sibling, proper food, and love.
Soon the boy grew and was able to wield a weapon. He picked up two daggers and instinctually dropped them. For some reason they caused him great panic as using them might bring out some dark beast that laid dormant in his soul. Then his foster father brought him a short sword that matched his size.
It is good.
The foster father, adorned in the colors of a sky guard, brought his young ward with him to a guardhouse and his compatriots welcomed the boy with enthusiasm. They showed him many things he could do with a sword, none of which required taking a life, and helped him steady his footwork. None took issue when the boy accidentally siphoned away one of the mages spells out of curiosity and even helped him study his powers, warning him not to use them to much.
Life is good.
Once upon a time a boy was cradled in the arms of a woman. Her grey horns crowned her head just as his did and she sang a song to him in some strange language he couldn't understand. The boy was old enough to perceive the things around him and understood that they lived in squalor. She held him close and waited for a man to come back with gold or food, anything to sustain the little family.
Her face is a blur but her voice is clear as day. The words are unfamiliar, but soothing, and the radiant blue of her eyes matched his as they shared this moment of trust and kindness. The love of a mother.
It is good.
He remembers this moment and finds himself dreaming of it from time to time. She will leave this day because the man did not return, and she will disappear as well. The boy will be alone and will have to learn quick to survive. His life will be hard and demanding. With his own hands he will kill many people for scraps, or simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but this is not what is happening.
The man returned with a sack of gold coins. Not copper, nor silver, but honest to gods gold. They will leave this place and live somewhere that accepts them, a life where a boy could grow up happy and healthy with the family he never knew.
This man and woman packed their things and she held the boy close as they ran out of the sewer city with all haste. The man was a skilled fighter and nothing could get in the way of him and the prospect of a better life for his family.
Every rat, every slime, and every beast the Middens could throw at him was sliced in twain as they rushed out. It would only be seconds before they would reach the end of the tunnel and true freedom.
But that is not meant to be.
At the end of the tunnel, where he knew the exit to be, lied darkness. The quiet around them was broken only by the dripping of water and intense feeling of dread over his body. He knew what was coming but the man would defeat it. Rats scurried past their feet in droves until there were none and suddenly the man was gone.
The woman and boy stared in frozen fear at the pitch black nothing in front of them. The boy knew this fear but could not stop it from controlling his body. The beastly rage that overtook him in some other life is absent and only the innocence that had been ripped from him in that other life could act on flight.
His mother however acted. Wherever she had amassed the aether from is a mystery but the walls were coated in a blue crystal sheen and within the darkness was the sounds of something being impaled upon spikes. Now they could leave and the man would return from the shadows with the monsters head, they could have the life he needed to keep himself from losing his way.
But that is not how the world works.
From the creeping dark came a sinister laugh. It started slow and low and the gurgling of a drowning man as some undertone of his voice froze the boys soul. He could do nothing but watch as the gold eyes shined like malicious marbles.
The woman screamed when it showed her the head of the man and soon her leg was taken from under her. She threw the boy and screamed for him to run until her screams were cut short by a sickening crunch. She too was taken from him.
It is bad.
The brilliant blue of his eyes slowly crept to a pitch black nothing, somehow darker than the void in front of him. He could feel it, the darkness that waited for him inside for him to awaken. Everything that he was meant to be in that dream cracked as the monster that haunted him took its steps towards him. Its coat fell down to the water as the tentacles on its back waved slowly behind him. The gaping maw laughed at his helplessness as it held the bloodied heads of the woman and man.
The boy looked upon this monster and soon the fear was gone. There was nothing to replace it as his emotions failed to process the situation in front of him. A monster robbed him of a happy life, took away the things that he needed to be something more, and now mocks him with the lifeless heads of two people that cared for him.
He will not let this be.
The boy's innocent face cracked and pieces began to fall into the sewer water beneath him. Yshvold begun to show as the monster crept closer and closer and its overwhelming aura washed over him. Sparks of rage shown in his eyes as the cracks in his face grew larger and each piece that fell grew in size. Half of a boy's face was gone, the horror in its eyes dying in the failing light, and Yshvold's wrathful glare pushed back the awful aether the monster gave off.
He could not fight this thing as a person, so he should be a monster.
Just as he thought that a hand grabbed his and pulled him back. Another boy with grey horns, in sky guard armor, dragged him through the muck with desperate eyes. He told the boy and Yshvold to not give in, he was sure that is what he said, and pulled him away as a group of guards rushed to his aid.
The shattered boy did not need to look to know the guards did not stand a chance and screams filled the tunnel around them as this new boy pulled them away. He knew the boy's intentions and could not go along with them, this was not him.
Then with the final piece gone the shattered boy went with it, Yshvold was free. It must be this way, no other path will suit him.
Yshvold pulled his arm away and felt the strong aether from the beast and looked down on the guard boy. All the guard could do is fall back in horror at what Yshvold was, and it was good.
He sucked in the aether around him and felt the power surge in his body. He knew not if he could do this but at this moment this was his world and the monster was not welcome in it. Turning around slowly to find the beast face to face with him did nothing to intimidate Yshvold. It screamed in his face and he stared it down.
It had no power over him in this place, he will not allow it.
Wrath had built to an explosive rate and vengeance would only be sated with the absolute destruction of this monster. No, not death, he would torture it, make it feel a new world of pain and misery, for thinking it was above him.
With a single thought chains of aether conjured and shot from the walls, capturing it as though they were the tunnel worms he was so careful around. They did not rip the monster apart but kept him in place, waiting whatever ill fate Yshvold would start with as he flashed the steel of a single dagger in his off hand.
Overpowering control propelled his wrath forward and a crazed smile flashed across his face, with psychotic eyes to match the demon that waits for his true awakening to the dark world that has been pulling at him from birth.
He would have his revenge, one piece of flesh at a time. He would be the monster the world sees him to be, and he will smile.
But this felt wrong.
A guard, an innocent, a monster, or maybe a hero. All of these things are something he thinks he can be, or perhaps wishes is the better word, and all of these things are something he desires.
A woman's hand touches his shoulder and the smile fades. Then his foster father's hand touches his other and his wrath vanishes without a trace. Yshvold looks up to the monster and it is gone, instead the thing that is chained up is the boy that had shattered. He is crying, screaming to be let down, and calling for his mother and father.
The boy guard stands beside him with pity in his eyes for both Yshvold and the chained up boy. He knew not what Yshvold would do, but a decision needed to be made. Yshvold could not stand in the twilight between dusk and dawn forever or the world itself may extinguish his light for his hesitation.
This is what it means to be a monster. Not to kill the horrors that threatened him and becoming more powerful, but to kill something that is never meant to die.
To show no mercy to the weak or strong that would pursue him, he would have to become the thing that hunted him when he was once weaker than most.
He didn't know what he wanted to do with the chained boy but he must decide now. Yshvold's hand raised in a fist that eclipsed the boy from his sight and the chains shook violently.
What he wanted, what he needed, he thought about those things for as long as he lived but if this is what he needed to do to become powerful then maybe he wants to be a...
...
He woke up.
