The Paladin Falls
“En'othk uulg'shuul. Mh'za uulwi skshgn kar.”
The voice rang in his head a thousand times that night, probably even more. It was sinister, unnerving, unrelenting. It wanted him to do what it bid his child, to submit. He was going insane slowly, surely, the voices gradually taking over throughout the time spent at Farmer Brown’s place. The stench, the feeling on the air as the shadows crept over the land and washed over his form, clawing at his mind.
“Submit, falling child. Submit to all you have fought so fruitlessly against. Submit to your one true master. The Light shall never hear your prayers again.”
He remembered all he had done wrong in his life, all the things that led him to this very moment. Especially when he confronted Lledwyn and Demytrya of his crimes long past. Even the one he had never even shared to his lovers, the truth that he had killed his own father. Of course, in his mind it was for a more than just reason, but patricide was not something so easily forgiven. And he feared for retaliation on that, as well as other transgressions.
He remembered the sound of the knife tearing through skin and bone as he drove his blade down his father’s neck and through his heart. He remembered the betrayed look in his eyes, the final words just moments before. “Ailos...no..!” He recalled the sight of the blood curdling up through his father’s mouth and the feeling of relief as he threw the body from the ramparts of his keep. Victory was almost always sweet, but in that moment, he abhorred it.
“You were the instrument of all their demises. You could have saved them all with the power I offered you, boy. Will you take my gift now?”
He shut the thoughts away until he finally found himself in the arms of Zeirya that night, his arms around her tightly as they laid in her bed. She ended up falling asleep before he did, or at least he thought so. His hand ran through those crimson locks slowly, his eyes staring at the wall remembering the night in extreme detail, over and over again.
Plucking the seed of corruption from the ground, siphoning its power, controlling it of his own accord. Shutting the whispers of N’zoth from his mind and taking what was right in front of him, giving into his desires for control. His desire to see the Scions free o Brown’s scrutiny. And when he had used the shadows to expel Zeirya from the barrier they were contained in? He sated his desire to keep the one of the people he could not live without, safe.
“You, will, submit!” He had commanded the seed with a mind of its own, and it had listened. Doing as its new master commanded and receding its corruption back into itself fully, quickly giving it to Lledwyn for it to be sealed. It had all started so wrong, and ended up being so easy to control. That primal power of commanding the shadows with his very mind and fingertips, it was intoxicating.
When he was sure that Zeirya wouldn’t have been bothered, he untangled himself from her and rose to his feet. Stepping out of her room and out into the fields of Erudition. He stood at one of the hay bales in the field and looked at it with a scrutinous gaze trying to reason what he could manage to do. He rose his hand to it, focusing his very will to it and slowly the void crept along his arm. Swirling around the appendage and manifesting as a cloud of shadows at his fingertips.
He looked at his hand and took a slow breath, looking back to the hay bale. “Pierce.” He muttered softly, the shadows quickly reacting. They swirled and formed short needle like structures and shot out, extending as they did so. They pierced through the soft hay and tore at its center. “Banish.” He commanded the shadows again, they left his hand completely and wrapped around the bale in a sphere. After a second, they dissipated and faded away, leaving no trace of the hay bale or their existence.
Ailos looked to his hand in quiet fear of what he had become, but also in a hunger to become so much more. He could control this, he could be stronger with this than he had ever been with the Light. His lips curled into a grin as he came to this realization, whispering to himself. “And so the sworn to Light, shall fall.” He sighed the words out as if reaching euphoria, lifting his gaze to the sky and calming himself.
He stared at the stars for a long time, finally bringing himself back down to Azeroth and turning to walk back into Zei’s room. Sliding back into the bed with her, resuming their old position, and letting himself fall to sleep.
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In his sleep he found no rest or solace, the voices still plagued him. Even worse now that he had given into their corruption, no matter his level of control over it in such a short time. He was a paladin, a priest even, who had fallen from the Light. Whether it was divine retribution or the Void testing its new champion, he could not tell. But his night was cursed with a deep slumber, the memory of his first wife dying again to his own hand.
Her cold blue and dead eyes staring up at him, watching her head fall from her shoulders over and over again. The clouds of snow poofing up, her ichor like blood coating thick on his blades, staining his armor and his mind for an eternity. This had to be a punishment for everything he had done, there was no other explanation for it. All he could do was watch it happen repeatedly.
While in the real world he mumbled her name, screamed it at times. He could not be consoled by his lover, her touch keeping his mind intact, but not much further. He twitched violently, stirred and rolled in their bed, tears leaving his eyes. His chest heaving as he relived the battle, crying inaudibly in his slumber. Until finally as the sun’s first rays shined through the window and warmed his face, he shot up. Eyes alight in their fel fire, his body muggy with sweat. Panting, struggling to find breath.
“Iilth qi mah'shar…” Echoed through his mind as he finally realized where he was, the whispers fading away. Their presence no longer felt.
(Mentions: @lledwynlomeriel @roewyn @chainmailandlace)
