Beyond the Shadows of Death
Once his eyes had closed - he couldn’t have dared to open them amidst the process of his transfer, a quiet acceptance of the gift being offered to him. His lips remained clenched onto her own as she breathed life into him, maintaining his body as his spirit transferred to the world beyond for his trial. Under the icy dirt, his body trembled terrible in its frozen clutches as if he were ready to succumb. His breathing slowed as the heavy earth applied pressure to his malnourished and weakened body - but a sigh of relief escaped him as the pressure slowly alleviated and the cursed one was weightless. The cold subsided and a calming warmth began to raise up the distance of his spine, calming tense pants that nearly showed a sense of panic. Even in his time of blindness, he could see so clearly. He felt like a new man - reforged and rebuilt. Hazel eyes finally appeared, and he had found himself somewhere much different than the place he was - unsure of his location. Did I die? Did I fail the trial? He was surrounded by a thick mist and a fog that could blind gods themselves - masking the world around him in a terrible shade of white and shadow. His expression was stoic as usual, seemingly unimpressed by the world around him but the thoughts racing in his mind told a different story. He walked forward into the unknown, eyes pointed ahead as he attempted to find anything amidst the blinding fog.
It seemed like days of walking - and he believed that to be true but his body was restless, able to continue on for hours on end without even a need to rest. His calm strides continued on until something caught the glimpse of his eyes - a decrepit old tree that continued on into a thick brush of dead forest. A remnant echo of her beckoning whisper filled his ears, and his eyes widened. One more step was given as he attempted to move forward but a voice promptly brought him to a halt. “Malachi... Stop.”
His lips met together into a firm line as he peered over his shoulder with dead eyes, meeting his gaze with an old man that stood at some distance behind him. He was a mess at first sight - disheveled dirty grey hair and mangled nasty clothes. His beard was thick and unkempt, covering a dirty face and offsetting solemn blues eyes that stared back at him. “You need not travel into the darkness of a witches grasp to find your calling. Your gift is already embedded into you - latching onto your soul to grant you wisdom and clarity in these dark times. Don’t forget who truly cares for you - because it isn’t her.”
Malachi turned to face him, offering a brief glance back into the darkness of the forest before hearing her beckoning whisper once more. “Father... That witch cleared me of a fog that blinded us - and showed me that our ‘gift’ was nothing more than a petty demon that took a hold of our family. We are not a gift onto this world - but innocent bystanders amidst a monsters plight.” Malachi stated firmly as his eyes finally locked onto the mans stare. “You’ve been taken from me - and cast aside into madness when there was no more use for you. You’ve never truly found your peace, father.” The old man lowered his head, but his eyes remained fixated on Malachi. Suddenly, a terrible figure walked to the side of the old man and placed a decayed, rotted hand on his shoulder. It was taller, lacking hair and looked like a horrifying ghoul out of a nightmare. It’s mouth was filled with blackened, sharp teeth and it’s eyes were covered with a cloth. It’s layers of flesh broke and peeled off him like a decaying zombie, but he stood all too steady with a mind of it’s own.
“My son... You were to be a master of this gift and embrace it as your own - bringing a new era of darkness upon the world - but alas, you’ve failed me and you will meet your punishment.” His eyes began to pulse with a demonic reddish hue as he narrowed his stare. “Take him.”
The ghoul dashed forward and send a flat palmed blow directly to Malachi’s chest, sending him darting into the dark forest. His eyes widened in pain as he stared back at them - darkness swallowing the opening of the path. The ghoulish figure broke through the pitch black, wielding a rusty iron scythe that looked all too familiar. A quick slash was delivered across his chest and it cut through skin and grazed bone, letting out a gush of blood that stained the gray forest floor.
“Argh! I will not be taken by your treachery, demon!”
Malachi took a dashing step backwards and landed to a kneel. His hands lowered and tugged the rusted dagger from his built and immediately brought the blade down to the palm of his left hand, which was littered with scars and cuts that have long since healed. The awful blade was dragged across skin; splitting it and allowed a steady stream of blood to flow. He brought his palms together and soaked the blood painfully between his two hands but as he pulled them away - a burst of flame rushed out in front of him in a swallowing, powerful wave. The ghoul took one swing of the scythe and attempted to dispel the flames, but it was to no avail. The forest exploded with a blast of fire and the ghoul was burned and mangled amidst it’s power. He drew his hands backwards and the spray of fire stopped, clenching his hands tightly as the trembled in pain; all of the leaking blood now vanished. The forest burned brightly, dissipating the mist and swallowing the forest with black smoke and bright flame.
“I WILL NOT BE CURSED!” Malachi screamed out words intended for the old man that was no longer in sight. A ruffling of leaves behind him caused his alert gaze to dart behind him, and his eyes lingered upon the old man once more - who stared down at him with disappointment washed over his face. “You’ve failed me - as you will always fail, Malachi. This decision will be your end.”
“You do not decide the future of my existence. I will forge my own destiny... and you will burn as you’ve burned our family name! Die!” His hands moved outwards and a rush of fire escaped his palms, swallowing the old man with ease. A soft whisper lingered in his ear and he incinerated the remnants of his father, eyes widening in pain as he stared ahead.
“Mark my words, Malachi. You shall remain... one of us.” A trembling pant escaped him once he reared back the flames and extinguished them, leaving nothing but a burnt clearing in its wake and no sign of the old man. The warlock fell forward and caught himself with his arms, heaving terrible coughs as he attempted to steady his breath. “I can’t take this anymore. Their whispers - They bore into every ounce of my being. I can’t find peace.” He said with a shudder in his tone but as his hands gripped the ground - he pulled in a surprised gasp. His eyes opened wide to find his hand and once he moved it away, he stared down at an ashen rose that survived the burning of his flames. His mouth opened wide and he shifted forward, knees folded under him as he sat down.
“I’ve... I’ve found you.” He muttered through immovable lips as both hands lowered to cover the flower protectively; the bloom that survived his outrage under impossible conditions. As his head lowered, a dark robed woman of ivory skin and raven hair approached him from the darkness, wielding a scythe that carried her weight with every step. She moved in front of him, casting her icy gaze down to him silently as she examined him with a scrutinizing stare. His eyes lifted and met her gaze, mouth opening wide before he finally lowered his head once more, leaning forward to press his face into her dark robes. His hands lifted, trembling, to grip the fabric, almost as if he never wanted to let go from this figure that he believed saved him. His entire body trembled terribly as that same rush of cold began to travel up his spine, but he didn’t dare let go of her. Soft sobbing could be heard, muffled against her robe as an ivory pale hand lowered to brush fingers through his messy hair. [ @xiviadanes ]
