"Tony Szczudlo shows us the last image seen by many of those caught seeking bloodsilver." I think this is the Gorgon, the most powerful of the awnsheghlien, the blooded scions carrying the tainted essence of the slain god Azrai. (Cover for Dungeon 59, May/June 1996, referencing Chris Perkins' AD&D Birthright adventure "Seeking Bloodsilver" set primarily in the Shadow World)
+ bingo ✓POV: Third person ✓Past tense ✓Knights of the Round Table
✓Mythical creatures ✓Fairytale AU (mythological actually) ✓Magical object
post-canon | mythological | angst (Greek tragedy vibes)
A despairing sorcerer wandered alone through the shadow-world.
Shades drifted there—soundless, shrouded in half-light like bodies in burial shrouds—they swam out to meet him from black niches, narrow nooks, endless corridors: indifferent, skittish, all alike. They shrank from the light of the crystal orb he carried—a gift from the druids, imbued with eternal flame to guide the lost through shadow. They slipped out of the murk only to sink back into it again—shades in the shadows, shadows with borrowed faces.
The sorcerer searched methodically, passing through every passage, probing every hall, peering around every corner. Long ago time had lost its hold on him, for it had lost all meaning. The very idea of time was no longer within his reach. He had spent centuries in humble waiting and long searches among the living for the king promised to him. He waited. He suffered. He waned.
Now it was the realm of the dead he had to search.
And he had come down here of his own will—staking his hope of happiness and his endless life, accepting the terms of the ancient gods: a single attempt to find and return with him… without looking back along the way.
Pressing deeper into the labyrinths of the shadow-world, he began to find them—began to recognize old acquaintances, long gone from the world of the living, from that vale of sorrow. And then, in a dark stone chamber, he saw the faint outline of a circle—a pale parody of the once-famed broad table. Around that circle huddled a small crowd of half-transparent shades with sorrowful faces. Their empty eyes raked over his weathered face, slid over his frail body.
The courage, the swagger, the thirst for life that had once adorned them had been rubbed away, erased forever. But he knew them all. He spoke their names, one after another, a litany of the lost: Lancelot. Elyan. Gawain. Percival. Leon… All were here—everyone who had ever held a seat at the Round Table, even for a brief span. All who had once fought in dreadful battles under their king’s command. All sat in their places—and only one place stood empty, the place that had always belonged to Arthur.
The warlock stopped, staring into the vacancy, aching—raw with the need for an answer: where was the one he had sought for so long, where was the one for whom he had forced himself to die, the one he had dreamed of dragging back into life.
One shade, bolder than the rest, crept closer—a dry whisper of fallen leaves over stone, over a floor blanketed in centuries of dust.
“He isn’t here.” The witch hissed, sly and gleeful, snickering under her breath. “You won’t find him here, great Emrys. For in the hour you joined the realm of the dead, my brother left it—to seek you in the world of the living. Arthur rose for you, Merlin. And you died for him. He returned, and you went away. He came back—and you were gone.”
And her loud, mocking laughter crashed against the ancient walls and came back as a monstrous echo—deafening, shaking, smothering the old sorcerer’s last hope beneath its weight.
@yusukehints: I've noticed some concerning posts from you and your friends as of late... If they're is anything you need, the Phantom Thieves are here to help.
Chie (?) Thought!: Phantom Thieves… You’re the blue-haired one, the one that grubby girl was trying to help. Don’t worry about us. You’ll be wasting your time and energy. I have a princess to take care of, she’ll fall behind if I’m not there to hold her up.
Oof. Queen of Air and Darkness is taking it out on me and not in a good way. The bones are good, great even, but the trenches you have to wade through TO GET TO THE DAMN POINT are thick.
Cassie. Cassandra. I love you and the Shadow World but half of those points of views killed me
would you say that in the shadowworld context, warlocks are the more "fragile" species between the prominent 5?
Shadowhunters are stronger, faster and more durable than most.
Vampires are also strong and fast and I guess also pretty sturdy.
The werewolves are the same.
I don't actually know about the seelies in this regard, I just figure that they too have some kind of more physically oriented attributes.
But the warlocks, while possessing great magical power, do have a "normal" body (apart from the immortality, I mean).
Right?