Chapter Nine: Dawn I
----------------------------------------
The scrappers, renegade a work done in every turn there was little waste left on the fields outside Freywyn's walls. Bell's rung as mark of the battle settled, the last remnants of battle faded in the bubble of men and stray. Talon folk, the harpies they call em' feral bunch no doubt but prized like any ram for their horns the sharp quills, claws nearly all of em had use and those still alive? Few tamed but ther' exceptions, a ravenous feral was more matter of a lack of civility.
That I knew, know much as heard from the mud-pits and straw bunkers those Talon dwelled. A topic among a particular drunken rogue, his mouth loose as his coin. The beasts stirred, meant more gatherings a tavern full, back-ways lined with more meat-- Dried and baked, grilled pig meat that was. Feeding the the stock, every scrap left' they'd eat much about anything fingers too.
"Quit the dallying!" Grendel bellowed her agitated voice racing down copper tubes,
particular one snaking to the basement feeding area.
...
The thin walls had no hope, shone with a glaring ferocity sunlight refused denial the buzz of after shower and morning rise churned the streets alive, like sap down a tree it congealed the sound of clopping a horsecart- It all too happily woke Ceron. The dull pain not subsiding piercing like needles at the back of his head 'An unfamiliar room, sunlight beamed from above angled windows, a plain room. Neatly wrapped bandages waistside, at the underside of my arms' It wasn't delusion.
It wasn't. The mind often deluded itself, playing games echo's of memories and fears mashed in a jigsaw puzzle. But the feeling? Actual sensations of the warmth under cotton covers, the jolt of pain nagging-- The fine details memory often missed, the small scratches on the floorboards, sharp nicks along the metal bedframe my hands and drifting dust overhead, I was sure. The room audibly groaned, as Ceron shuffled across, sparkling of light catching his attention behind swaying fabric. An obscured mirror. Unrestrained shock, there was no overcoming, the senses realization upon one self's reflection.
Tone but not overly muscled. Early, late twenties and youthful but not so much a child's body. Charcoal hair, on one side streaks of white front to back, Ceron took in all facets of his form staring into the abyss of his green eyes. The slash formed scar still remained on his chest, as did a few others. "Just what became of me?" Ceron muttered standing far longer than he realized, a hand onto his reflection. Like a portrait one couldn't quite grasp dwelling in a unreachable place, a face- A body 'I was not the same person, I was yesterday.'
Ceron turned as the room swirled, waves of vertigo took hold. A burning pain crept along his neck' The mirror, However stagnant a hand still outstretched. "Wh-- What have you done to me?" Ceron clutched the bedframe his surprise not withheld, foreign but a familiar as if lived with since birth. 'no it was more obvious than I wanted to admit, It lingered a vestige.'
A draft swept past through skin and bone, "Ghost, you died the moment I became. The moment your heart was impaled and called upon me." Choice, it all resulted here, "Action borne of your accord broug--"
"I'm Dead?.."
The reflection visibly darkened, unspeaking a reality far too real. But Ceron wasn't done-- "Part of you is here, a remnant of what was nonetheless." Two souls can't equally coexist. it was the natural way of things, there had to be a dominant force. Gradual it'll define itself, mixing as a singular entity. Something else entirely, a form even himself couldn't account. Nocking came as Ceron realized, the fading form to name Asriel. A collage of images bore, Ceron fell the abrupt surge of information draining his legs. The room's door swung open at the sound,
"Careful you idiot!" The floorboard cried, a girl dashed forward much Ceron could discern with swirling vision. Her blonde hair in a fritz, grabbing hold thrust Ceron to his feet, a motion a girl half his size exceeded expectation. That was more apparent the jug she held let loose splashing Ceron cold, followed with a sting across his cheek. Showing her most sincere bedside manner,
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"Pray tell, the ingenious plan of yours."
That was the second time Ceron found himself for a loss of words. 'A red handprint, confusion and a tinge of the gal' this girl.. Flooded Ceron's mind. He'd get angry, mad and pretty sure had killed for less, but more like quenching of a blade Ceron's emotions flatlined. The tantrum of a little girl was nothing of importance But..' Ceron deflected another strike, his vision coming back to reality' "Kept best, those hands to one's self missy." Irate the cogs behind those hazel eyes malfunctioned, was it a surprise to not want to be sullied a another time?
By the time smoke started rising, Ceron had already made it to the window curtains, deep in thought, the mulling of the street below and toward the rising tops and distant spire-Malformation. An blotch upon the skyline marked by the arrogant, seedy hands--
"M-missy?' Dashing a few octaves, the girl was obviously flustered, continued his idle pondering, well who wouldn't? Look at me. Ceron absently rubbed his chin, frankly the notion of if he should grow a beard was in the top ten of amends to consider. The teapot ran, throwing a shirt toward Ceron, namely one riddled with blood. "Asriel, gone batshit have you?? Missing, not so pretty remodeling of your apartment-- Come back covered in blood.' The girl gestured up in down, her eyes growing into beady saucers, "And and, top it all off- You've somehow bleached your hair between this."
"Th--"
Cutting off Ceron the girl made it halfway to the door, "Grendel needs an answer. Most would and have reported it.'
"Get dressed first." Eyeing up and down she finished, storming out the room.
...
At the back of your neck, the urge to jump from this vessel's squabble. Fleeting I bit back temptation, as the girl's silhouette receded down hallway's edge. Again found myself drawn toward the mirror; the debt, Asriel was foolish, guided by instinct was it? Honed back to a safe place-- One where you got kidnapped was far from brilliant. Eyes saw me, having night waded as I slept the fires must be felled, no knowing of how long.
The images washed like in a blur,
I have to push myself.
Cascading memories, imprints on my mind and consciousness melding into one, what feelings will sway my thoughts unknowingly? Ceron grimaced, 'Asriel's being was intertwined, I have no power' none to stop the metamorphosis.' The strength of the seal was but wisps one low incantation if even. Ceron pulled over the ragged coat and cleaned black undershirt a gesture not unnoticed, kindness unwarranted? Just who was Asriel. Things I'd like to ask myself, though the conflict of death leaves little room for talk. As time dwindles and one sense of self fades.
Running just delayed the inevitable, deluding self was delusion of the mind, unfocused left one to be manipulated.
The spiral staircase rocked with each step, bustle of the common room was alight with clamoring of voices, shuffling of chairs and knocks of mugs. Backlit lanterns cast the room in soft hues of orange, men sorted their plates and discussion amongst one another, as Ceron passed behind a few cloaked unhuman shapes, mutations? Noted now the strange assortment, oddity of faces scale like skin, some sporting teeth more like blades, others misconfigured a eye, hand ear not present. The food was human enough suppressing curiosity steps led, countertop the same girl mulling about tearing a bottle and more at a time.
..
She passed a glance Ceron's way, filling a gentleman's glass to the brim, "I'd like to thank you, for the clean attire."
Nodding back she gestured her head toward a door to the back.
"Needn't be so formal about it, clothes anyway taken from your room-'Huffing the girl continued 'One now in shambles that is, so what' you having?"
"Another time... Marie." Ceron parted from the bartop subtly forming the girl's name and her scrutinizing expression, liquor was poison to any mage though there was merit in building a tolerance. It dulled the senses, something never to be. Works of the craft were not tools to be used lightly, wrong incantations slips on formations, energy had to release in a way or form... Ruptured veins, eroded skin, heart attacks or simply ineffective and weak when in dire circumstance. However Ceron didn't consider himself of the same lot, he'd manipulate his innate elementium forces and cast a volley in the moment it took the average layman to utter a syllable. But still, could this body take it?
Something that required a deep isolation to know, a shabby room was far from ideal. Especially under shadow in the twilight of my tower, gazing down on me as-- Its own creator was to be ridiculed. The rising heat in Ceron's chest couldn't settle, maybe not till he had held the entrails of those who besmirched him, like reins or maybe flying them like a kite. So Ceron put on a smile, knocking thrice as he entered past a thick wooden door.