A/N: I decided to give myself deadlines; so I can write more chapters, and hopefully, beat writing block 🤭.
{Something wicked this way comes.}
Tagging list: @melissalix @lorabeyc @darialovesstuff @liliana-vessina @oak-girl @nana-noone @noelle9 @mitsuko-saito , @jellys-girl @lisadelise @lilymoo @musa-fairy . (If you wanna be added to just tell me <3)
The occultist’s mission had been a brilliant sucess. In which impressed Anzir so much that he kept him as his lackey; the thing is: no one wanted to be a lackey - even Kasaar, a former-occultist.
Upon teleporting to Anzir’s castle, or specifically; in the vault tomb of his personal space, a sanctuary for his ‘researches’ in one, wouldn’t want to know.
Still scowling, The occultist let out an annoyed harrumph; being in an ancient vault had him feeling the ‘creepers’.
A perfectly maintained vault is not what he had in mind, the lighting is adequate; not too bright or too dim. Unusual for a nearly centuries old vault; it is too ‘maintained’ something told the occultist that the dark one is using magic to maintain it, which isn’t surprising — in this world? Magic can do wonders. Anzir’s sacred vault is like a walking contradiction for how vaults are supposed to be. Walls are well preserved, not a hint of slick stones, or worn-off walls or paint that time did not a favour to.
Exceptionally, the floor isn’t chalky, or muddy; however, cleaned pristinely. Not even their footprints are showing in the ever glinting floor — not even a hint of uncomfortable humidity. Which was extraordinary for the Occultist. Not even a hint of leaking water - save for the faint drip-drop from a retort flask full of magic with weird compressed metallic pipes.
It's as if they are in a normal, newly formed room in lieu of a centuries old vault. truly astonishing, the occultist thought.
Now, The Dark one, grasped the lock of hair via a tweezer — from one of the Giants, plucked by Kasaar himself. The one who has the unfortunate job to pluck one measly lock from the heads of these beasts, it was not a wonderful experience on the Occultist’s part — rather, he was disgusted, and he contained the lock via a small container.
No, none wanted to hold a lock of hair of an ugly, one-eyed giant.
“Truly, peculiar,” hummed Anzir, the hand of Darkness
cocking a well-arched orangish brow. “What’s so peculiar about a lock of a filthy, one-eyed beast?” Kasaar mumbled in annoyance.
Anzir Obsidian, A man so handsome, so exquisite; that he appeared as if he was crafted by Darkness, not the ugly Darkness - moreover, the kind of Darkness that is so evil yet it is so fine and delicate. With flawless pale birch skin-tone; with being slightly alive looking. A face to gawk at and admire, not to escape from, with a strong jaw - that looks like biting metal like eating an apple. Thick, well-shaped brows, upturned eyes adorned with a lovely shade of Gray; slightly darker than Aliyaa’s — Kasaar noticed that his eye may seem a redundant eye colour of all the Dark ones - or the slightly darker shade of the cheekbones, must be a factor in all the Dark ones - somehow Darkness altered their appearance to the best. With silky, jet-black hair shoulder-length.
Anzir is always well-dressed, not because he is filthy-rich — but he loves to appear sophisticated. Another common feature in the Dark Ones, his attire consists of a blazer-like coat, adorned with strapped - or belted sleeves, the sleeves or straps Greyish-coloured to fit the black top. The black top is also lined with silver accents, to go well with the top. Underneath the black blazer-coat; a black vest adorned with gothic black prints; a slightly darker shade of slate cravat well tied around his neck. With the coats having feathered cloth; it looks as if the top half has smaller wings like of a Raven, or a Crow.
For a man, he is handsome.. Kasaar thought as he avoided the latter’s gaze.
A soft hum escaped the Dark one’s full and moist lips. “Why a lock of hair you wonder-“ He now dumped the lock of reddish-brown hair into a retort small flask which was already gurgling with colourful magic. “Hair-“ He began as he maintained eye-contact with the Occultist. “It has enough power to locate a wicked entity.”
Kasaar cocked a perfectly arched orange-ish brow. “A single lock of hair could do that?” His face annoyed; as if saying ‘are you serious?’.
Anzir, who let out a mirthful chuckle. “Do I look like a blubbering fool to you? Kasaar.”
That earned him a shrug from the autumn-headed Occultist, whose amethyst eyes glowed like a fox. “No, but it looks like Darkness has corrupted you.”
“Darkness did more than ‘corrupt’ me.”
Now, in the Blackened Pines forest, a forbidden place, where evil lurks, and Darkness sway freely away from
The Light; and the aspect of light and justice. They said: “All lands fair and open, except where one made out of bodies and dead souls”.
It was known this place is viciously associated with more than bandits and cutthroats - something bigger, something larger; and more wicked. There is this saying among the Virginian tongues : ‘tread where you can see light, and where light can feel you, and stay farther than the foul-smelling places, for it’s haunted and wicked” they say right! This place is like an unstoppable, renewable, and the smell gets worse by every ticking second.
Kasaar scrunched up his face in disgust at the awful smell. “Darn,” he cursed. “It looks like a horde of rhinos died here.” His tone wasn’t pleasant.
Anzir, who wasn’t bothered by the smell. “It is just more than that-“ he took up his dagger, glinting viciously with forbidden powers.
What happened now, it shook Kasaar a bit. The Kris-Dagger of Anzir: the Dark one. The ever-carved and adorned. Momentarily, it turned like a vintage-like projector. Amethyst's eyes widened as he saw a clear, in perfect quality; like in a 4k quality film. Where he saw clothed hologram figures, killed the Giants, their mortal enemies. Skinned them, plucked limbs and bones out of their already fouled carcasses. Stupid! the Occultist mentally growled. These old fools made a dark ritual of spilling blood in a perfect pentagram circle; and chanted many things in unrecognisable language, or too long dead language.
“And now-“ Anzir, who twirled his Kris-dagger like a bo-staff. “Watch this.” The Dark one urged.
Kasaar’s intention is now on the Kris-dagger, not only it did twirl magically; but, it showed vivid images of those hooded figures; ones whom wore their enemies’ skin like a tattered cloak. It felt disgusting. As Kasaar felt something in his guts.
Not long after rituals were done; a burst of darkish-red energy winked into existence; burning away the foul-carcasses of the once mighty Giants - the clothed figure ran, like escaping insects; out of fear. However, luck was on their side; as that vicious power never touched them. Kasaar had a feeling this evil energy did not stop at that.
After appearing, Anzir now glanced at Kasaar. “Watch, pet,” The former Occultist scoffed at being called ‘Pet’. The Dark one is extremely lucky - because the latter was bound to obey him; had it not been for his restriction, the Occultist wouldn’t let the ‘pet’ world fly by.
Demons, hordes and hordes of Demons appeared in that accursed place; where the foolish Virginian — had unknowingly summoned evil spirits, and Darkness into their land.
“And then?” Kasaar spat impatiently. “I’m not here to watch a movie.”
The current Dark one laughed again, amused by his impatience. “Just a moment, can you not spare me a moment?” And he was sarcastic too.
The former-Occultist glanced at his ‘Master’ disdainfully. However, refrained from spewing biteful words.
Demons weren’t the problem at all, it was the entity which followed them into this World. A vicious entity who is unseen by the living; but the dead and the ‘peacefully’ sleep can seem him - and they should pray so devoutly — unless he’d visit them in their dreams and feast on their souls.
Anzir’s magic is so powerful that it shows the Entity’s appearance. Like a giant siphonophore drifts its way through the pitch-black ocean with its brilliant bioluminescent lights of brilliant light-blue hues - like a brilliant water-colour light blue hue made by a creative artist, moreover, The difference is, the creature gleam with brilliant, Reddish-blood colour.
“Whoa,” Kasaar breathed now, definitely taken aback.
The hidden entity truly embodies the word ‘sinister’ perfectly. With a reddish mass, not even a comprehensible body shape - it seems a bit blurry at the edges, likely due to the sheer power it holds; His neck, long and thick. Oftentimes, Kasaar saw his neck hung upside down. Like a creature straight out of a horror movie, or a novel at least — One thing the two had in common: they were uncomfortable by merely looking at the creature.
“Curses…” the Former-Occultist cursed. “Is it still at large?” He may had been a wicked sorcerer, but not a monster.
For once, The Dark One’s face had a hint of a grimace; usually, the handsome man would be all smiles and giggles. “Unfortunately. Yes.”
Annoyed again, “It must be contained-“ Kasaar made a hand gesture.
“Or killed.” Anzir finished in behalf.
Anzir and Kasaar truly felt abhorrent; they two wished whomever was its current victim; the best of luck.
For the ever Remained-One, must have mercy on them.
For it is a wicked entity, none know where from God-forsaken realm it came from. And no one has the time to think about it when this forsaken creature would come for them.
Aliyaa heard faint rustles, or hooves clacking on the ground; that jolted her awake. Fearing for her life in a place she has no knowledge of. Her mind was a blank space. Not even remembering bits from what happened the day before. Strange, she thought as she slowly stood to her feet. A delicious smell of beef and vegetables greeted her nose; as she skittishly sauntered around the wooden floor of a large, mysterious cottage she was placed in.
The ebony wavy-headed woman found herself in a place full of greens and blooms; one is unrestrained or untouched by Man.
The cottage, though purportedly ancient; yet not rustic or weathered by time; miraculously preserved like freshly built. the cottage, its top walls adorned with soft light beige, like cream on a cool surface, while the lower part is covered with rocks; slightly darker colours like sand; pressed together like a fossil being laid to study; beside that, the cottage had rectangular windows with cool glass shade and laden with ceramic of terracotta colour, Aliyaa noticed this cottage is no mere sanctuary; A single hung torch glows like an eye half-closed in peaceful slumber - its reddish-orange light spill onto the parched earth below, while a singular torch; yet, it is strong enough to lighten the whole place she stood in.
The cottage is a mystery in its own; but also the plants and greens around it. Ivy climbed, and grew along the roof not to signify decay — but to embrace the roof, like a long time partner; poppies, in different colours spilling out from jugged rocks on the floor like a wonder to be admired. Aliyaa let out a smile, this forest has uncontrollable greens and lush growing around; and supposedly unrestrained by Man - which is a good thing. It provides oxygen, she thought.
On her left, she noticed a few metal chairs and a small table made out of metal — which is surprising to her, someone - or at least, people were here. This made her belly churned with concern. Overally, worrying too.
As the beautiful woman now glanced behind. Unintentionally, she let out a semi loud gasp; the green is covering the floor like a carpet; miles away, the green extended vast with hills and hills of green like a realistic painting of a skilled artist - whose experience in this field is unmatched. The smell of the food got her again; as she trotted back to where food called her.
Several plates were laid on the table; chunks of roasted meat with garlic and potatoes, a freshly baked bread with sesame. Chopped cucumber and lettuce, and lastly. A pitcher full of warm water - not icy or hot.
Aliyaa smiled as she began to thank the Remained-One for the food; and next, she thanked the one who prepared this feast for her. Then she began to dig in, not inhaling all the food like a prisoner on death row. More of a civilised Maiden.
Her lonely ember orbs lit up as she found the food utterly delicious and tasty. On top of that, it has been two days since she has eaten, and the food she once stored in her bag was finished. Luckily, she doesn’t need to worry about going hungry again. Unless, she was kicked out of this place that is.
Not long after that, Heynois. The Sylvan with Centaur-body. He noticed the girl had woken up, and ate the food he had provided — good, he told himself. She is alive, he told himself again.
The woman, who raised her tiny head to look at the Sylvan who loomed over her. Large, larger than life itself. His shadow easily covered her like a lid covering a jar. Lips trembling as she kept glancing at him. Half wondering if it would slice her up and call it a day. But no, the Sylvan stood. Like a stoic analyst who is trying to analysing her - is she a foe? A lost soul? many questions raced to his ancient mind. But one thing for sure: she is helpless.
Her neck began to hurt now as she kept gazing up at him.
The Sylvan’s head is adorned with long branches that extended like an Impala’s horns; but thick and wide. His pupiless eyes, gleaming with yellow like molten Gold, Barks and branches carpeted his body like second skin, His body-mass is fully covered with greens - although Aliyaa can see he is made of some type of flesh-like substance, just like hers. however, more ancient and innate magic. Magic-made armor infused with his majestic body like ancient totems. His strong hooves can trample bones and grind them into dust; loins attached with stones-clasp hung from his midsection; and same for his lower parts too; and his behind parts — where his tail is.
“I see that you are awake,” Heynois said. His voice is loud and ancient.
Aliyaa shivered a bit. “Y… yes. I am.”
The woman did not stay here for long, she thanked the Sylvan for taking care of her, and feeding her. “Thank you for bringing me here, and for your hospitality.”
Her thoughts turned to her recently deceased Father. Her eyes darkened like the dead of the night, her heart. Once tender, and full of love - now hardened harder than a rock. Tendrils of Blackness danced in her vision; promising vengeance.
As she made her way to the Al’Jahra, where she lived and accidentally killed her Mother. She needed to return, to investigate. On her left, she smiled as she borrowed a black dress and veil from a nearby market, owned by a sweet Lady Monisa.
Now dressed in the new black dress, a veil covered her face like a mask; she headed to the funeral. Rows and rows of Men and Women paying respects and tributes to Hadi Aepel; her deceased Father. Desperately, she wanted to go there and hug him - however, had she done that - she’d be pulled and locked away, perhaps for life. Since she is a complicit in killing Farah — her ‘Mother’. But no, for once. She is logical, and a strategist.
Time flew by quickly, as she saw Novelyn. She smiled - she never liked her aunt anyway, and frequently. She’d get weird vibes from her. As she trotted quietly, like a cat.
She eavesdropped on the door like a well-trained thief. Aliyaa’s heart dropped when she finally heard it: “I finally got rid of him, her, and the brat ran away.” Coldness washed over her; as every fibre of her being demanded revenge.
Slowly, she grabbed a metallic pipe. Novelyn, her wicked aunt. Who poisoned her Father’s tea. And now he is dead because of her. The older woman felt pain exploded at the back of her neck. The injured woman felt her tears running down, Aliyaa struck her thrice; two times at the back of her head, and one on her shoulder. Drops of blood fell as Novelyn fell on the floor. Grasping at the back of her head.
The older woman whimpered in pain. “Wretched brat!” She cursed at her.
This earned her a fourth strike on her face; a crunch of bones reverberated through the place, Her aggressor:
Aliyaa. She quickly finished the job by ripping her heart out. “This is for my Father,” She darkly remarked.
Novelyn’s eyes watered as she begged for mercy. “Please….” She croaked desperately. “I needed money..” She confessed the main reason. “Your Father was filthy rich-“ she croaked even more, “And my son is sick!”
Not wanted to hear anymore, Aliyaa squeezed her heart until it was nothing but a ground dust of Gray. The older woman instantly died as she had her vital organ crushed.
Aliyaa whipped her head back, behind. A few inches away. Stood, a younger boy. With blackish locks, and droopy brown eyes. He thought his Mother was sleeping. However, the blood, and the girl he soon recognised as Aliyaa. Was there.
But no longer, she ran as she gently pushed him out of the way.
The boy screamed, alarming everyone. “Aliyaa! Aliyaa hurt mama!”
Eventually, more people gathered around. The two heads of the family: Aal and Salwa - the parents,, Massoud joined them, and the rest of the Family. Salwa cried as she saw her daughter died. Her blood dropped, big and un chaotic - if one would look closely. The body would tell us how she met her demise.
“That monster!” Salwa bellowed. “She murdered three!” The Grandmother sneered.
Aali Aepel, the Grandfather. “That’s not true. Hadi died poisoned,” he reminded. “And Farrah died because she fell.”
Cocking a brow, “And Novelyn?” Massoud, his son, asked.
Aali signed. “Let’s just call the ambulance and al-shurtta.” His face is heavy, losing three children is not easy..
Upon escaping from the straying eyes of the police men ‘Al- Shurtta’ — they call them, Aliyaa, who successfully escaped like an experienced burglar. Navigating her way through a stampede of pedestrians and market vendors - as her eyes - now gray due to Darkness, strayed a little - then Bump - she collided briefly with an unsuspecting man; well-dressed, as his things lay around him disorderly. Aliyaa felt sorry as she quickly helped him to gather his things. Mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ then she took off once the man nodded firmly as if thanking her.
Soft breathing, as she trotted in a quick pace;
The light-orange lamplight shined on her - like a silent witness to her horrifying crime - yet, in her figment of imagination; she imagined herself restrained and captured by the arms of the law - However, she shook her head and pressed on.
Everything blurred in a canvas of grays, beige and blues; Aliyaa finally made a B-line to the nearest exit of the city. For her, her luck held firm and unwavering - as the nearest exit yawned ahead. Blessedly empty - as if waiting for her to come and go.
Feeling like running for an eternity. The sinner, she finally rested on a wooden chair in the heart of the forest - the same forest she found herself in, in the earlier of the Morning.
“I don’t think they will show mercy on me,” she mumbled to no one in particular. “I’m a sinner now.”
Aliyaa gasped softly as she saw the same figure from earlier; Heynois, the same Sylvan - a forest centaur. “You are here again?” He asked, his tone neutral.
Aliyaa said nothing, she just nodded, a bit timid. “Y… yes.”
Heynois sighed now as he motioned for her to follow him.
Unbeknownst, a figure from a different plane is following them….
It’s creepy eyes, like small molten embers - it smiled creepily as it floated behind.
May the Remained-One show mercy……
Dividers by: @strangergraphics , @uzmacchiato.
