KNIGHTMARE BY DAWN//ANCHOR VIII
What exists, after death? Heaven? Eternal hell? Or, mayhaps, Limbo- a haunted paradise between worlds? Or, there exists nothing? Nothing, but a black blank, all encompassing void of infinity.
Fortunately, such questions can only be pondered upon, by the common man– never, can be they be experienced. Rather, well.. they can be, but, unless one believes in ghosts and djinns, there is no proof.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on, how you look at it; Charles was no ordinary man.
Thus, now, when most would be, hopefully, unconscious and mayhaps completely nonexistent; he was awake.
Surrounding him, was a pitch black sea of infinity, a void that lathered his body in its malicious darkness. It whispered to him, at times. It called to him, promising salvation. But, if there was something that he had learnt in his, measly, 17 years of life was that no one is trustworthy. Not even, an omniscient voidling sea.
Suddenly, following a shrieking of some sort, a tear began to form in the void. The shrieks began mounting, as the tear grew and grew, like an incessant mold.
The shrieking and tearing reached a crescendo, and with the ferociousness of a starving beast, the white burning tear pounced and swallowed him whole..
The town was a pleasant little thing, located deep in the middle of nowhere amidst a sprawling savannah. He would have hated the place, barren and hot, as it was but, somehow he didn't?
It was inexplicable, however, there was a feeling.. a certain degree of warmth and fondness for this abandoned oasis of life. The warmth, he could attribute to the humongous volcano that loomed in the horizon.
But, the fondness? He was at a loss.
Not to mention, the volcano was strange. It felt as if it was in the midst of an eruption yet, no debris nor lava was being spewn out. It was baffling, yet it was happening. Overhead, above the volcano, were storm clouds– Almost, as if they're, giving it shade, he chuckled at the thought. Lightning would sometimes streak across the volcano from the clouds, striking it viciously like a viper. Alas, it would not do much but mayhaps, annoy the personification of nature's wrath.
A roar, louder than he had ever heard, resounded across the volcano’s barren duchy. By instinct, his hand reached for his sword; only, to find it gone.
However, before thoughts of annoyance and self depreciation could take root, another roar resounded over the town and finally, a shape, a massive outline of a forgotten creature loomed through the stormy clouds.
Like an arrow, the unholy creature burst through the clouds, their resistance and anger folding before this abomination’s fiery breath.
The devilish creature, was a humongous dragon– its scales as pitch black as the night, its eyes like shining rubies and its breath, as fiery as the sun's gaze.
Charles' body locked with fear, refusing to budge from its open prison. No matter, how much his brain and, the ever treacherous, heart screamed at it to move– it simply, refused.
Even as the dragon's, stinkingly hot, mouth swallowed him whole, as it's body crashed on the ground akin to an earthquake. His body remained still. Incapable of thought.
The tear in the void, swallowed him whole…
“You're mine, no one else's.” She whispered against his lips. He nodded, as she peppered his face with kisses.
“Gooood!” She spoke, a sultry tone in her voice, a smirk on her heavenly face. “I will show you, heaven, love. Nay, I'll show you pleasures, greater than heaven, I'll show you them.. and more… so much more~” She paused and ran her hands across his chest, “I will, make you into mine own worshiper. But, there is something… something, that I want, in return,”
“Tell me… tell me, what I need to do, for my love– for my goddess,” He said, punctuating his words with a kiss. She wiggled her finger, in a ‘come hither’ motion and like a faithful pilgrim, he obeyed.
“Promise, to be mine,” She whispered into his ear, her breath tickling it seductively. And, without thought– without, wasteful pondering, his heart accepted, leaning into her holistic touch and grazing those, cherry red, lips with a kiss pledging eternal servitude.
The tear in the void, swallowed him whole…
The woman coughed, spittles tainted with blood and grime, coating her mouth in a painting of deathly damnation. Her luscious strawberry pink locks, having long since lost their graceful luster– turning into a graying white, a symbol of twilight, her twilight.
He kneeled beside her, thumbing her gaunt cheeks. The woman smiled, tis was a pitiful sight, one that would wrench the heart in sympathy and, perhaps more greatly, in disgust. That was, without considering the blood dripping from her mouth.
“Pitiful, is it not?” She spoke somberly, and with great care, ghosted her hand over the spear that impaled her to the ground. “For, all our talks..” She coughed, blood landing on her bright sunny dress, “ugh, all our talks.. ramblings of, of immor... immortality, ah, I.. I guess, we- we never really were cut out for it.. eh?”
He held her hand in solidarity, covered in blood it was, yes, but, he found that it did not disgust him.. somehow. Perhaps, because it was her's? Likely, but lately, his heart had been treacherous. So, he couldn't quite really say.
He continued holding it, long after her own grip had slackened– long after, her breaths had ceased. In truth, her porcelain hand remained steadfastly in his, even as the raven black eyes of hers became blank and unseeing.
It was, the first and last time, he swore. Once more, and he feared that tis would be him ascending alongside them.
Thus, did Pleiades swear.
The tear swallowed him whole; Come hither, The Empress beckons…
Sat upon a lonesome elegant desk in her gentle solitude, amidst a room of material not known to him painted in the most curious of grays and whites, was a beautiful woman; an angelic beauty, that the world is blessed with, once every odd century.
The woman, had the most curious of eyes– akin to pits of molten gold swirling in pearly whites, the left one, however, was pitch black, similar to Elena’s. Her hair, was the color of the somber night sky, black as coal yet with the lustor and elegance of a shining star.
Her face, he noted, was ghostly similar to Elena’s, and that, if viewed at a certain angle one would, surely, confuse her for the former. He certainly had, and in no terms of self obsession, he was a rather observant individual. Perhaps, a distant descendant? Or, mayhaps, even a direct one?
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The latter, inspired a flame of hope within him and, shamefully, ignited a deep seated insatiable lust for his beau. The former, was acceptable as well. Although, tis the latter, that he would prefer.
The woman was, lost- forlorn in her writing; admittedly, a language he couldn't quite understand or relate. However, there was beauty to it, an elegant display of the most cursive writing that he had ever seen. Or, mayhaps, that was just her style.
It did, on further observation, have similarities with his own language. Perhaps, an evolved form of it? Maybe, but again, he couldn't answer.
Pleiades, would have been helpful, he thought to himself with concern– a fact, that surprised even him.
Time passed, and without any measure of it, tis was difficult to say how long he stood there, gazing at the heavenly beauty writing, a most beautiful prose. Soon, however, the woman paused- as if unsure of her next move, her hand freezing mid movement; suddenly, she turned, facing him with a raised brow.
“You do, realize that I can, see you.. yeah?” She spoke with a giggle with a hand reaching her mouth to stifle a gasp of mock disgust.
Charles made to speak, a jest prancing on his tongue… only to pause in shock. A man, taller than him, walked through him- as though, Charles wasn't simply.. there?
“I.. realized that, my Queen. I did not, mean to discomfort you, and, seeing as you were in the midst of penning a letter.. I stayed back, so as not to interrupt you,” The man wanted to speak further but the woman.. or Queen, interrupted him.
“Hah, there will be no need of apologies, Sir Wifort. I thought, I was quite clear about that?”
Sir Wifort bowed, and nodded, “Yes, my Lady. Quite clear,”
The Queen nodded, a grin playing on her exotic red lips. She opened her mouth to speak, in a melodious voice but, alas, he was unable to hear it-
The tear in the void, swallowed him whole; Come, child, pay me a visit, won't ya? Pay homage, to thy Goddess…
On a Golden throne of malice and eternity, amidst the lonesome whispers of heavenly seas of black platitude, lost in her placid meditation was a young woman– a mature air hanging around her, yet her face was youthful, painted in the facade of a maidenly innocence.
The woman, like the Queen he had seen before, was of an angelic- nay, a godly beauty; one, that was further reinforced by her air of innocence, covering her already nonpareil beauty in a scarf of untouchable holiness. Her dress was similar in this regard, nonconservative in the way it showed her curves and porcelain skin, yet shrouded it enough to create a sense of untainted purity.
Much like the Queen, she too had a curious color of eyes– akin to pits of molten silvery gold swirling amongst seas of snowy whites. Her hair was likewise, black as the night, although, it had queer streaks of white in it. Almost, as if a symbol of taint and impurity.
The similarities between the 3 women were uncanny, especially so between Elena and the Queen. This woman, however, seemed to be a combination of the two. No wonder, the angelic beauty was magnified in her.
Ever the treacherous snake, his heart warmed at the sight of her. Tis was understandable, or would have been, had he not fallen, oh so deeply for Elena. None, not even the heart beating away in his chest, could convince otherwise.
Sighing, the woman's gaze ghosted towards him, an alluring smile bloomed on her bright strawberry lips. The fiery gaze remained locked with his, for a time immemorial, until.. a bellowing, almost musical, laughter shattered the silence.
“Hahaha! Taken aback, are you?” A blush covered his face, quickly refuting the allegation. “Hahaha, sweet boy, you need not lie to me-” In a conspiratorial tone, she continued slowly with a chuckle, “I'm a Goddess, you know? I know whenever sweet misguided boys, such as you, are lying.”
“A Goddess! Hah,” He scoffed, appalled that the woman thought him a fool. Tis true, he's a naive lad and a young one. But, he's no fool.
The woman's lips twisted into a sickening smile, “Ah! I see, boy. Then, perhaps, you do need a little induction, I suppose,”
“A, what?-” Before, his words could leave his lips, the woman flicked her hand and flung his body across the air, like a ragdoll meant for her sick pleasure, throwing him into a roaring and ravageous tear.
The tear in the void, swallowed him whole; one last dance…
Charles' eyes snapped open, scrambling from the ground like a diseased animal– only to bang his head against a wall. His body hit the ground, a groan escaped him. Fucking hell.
Laying on the ground, he gathered his thoughts, orienting the straying mind back to reality? Or, wherever, he was currently. For, in spite of the fog that had descended upon his memories, keeping knowledge and experience at bay, he could still recall dying in a market? Or, was it a manor? No, no, no, it was a field of white with ancient mountains gleaming at him. Despite, the assurances of his heart, the incredulousness remained.
The room, he was currently in, was simply put.. magnificent! A work of pure and unadulterated art. A massive domed roof, with a mural painted upon it– depicting, a woman wearing a black skintight dress, hoisting a shining sword pointed towards a horde of ill-armed savages and knights, behind the woman, herself, were knights wearing the most beautifully fashioned armors and liveries.
The dome, was held by elegant pillars, of pure angelic marble with handsome golden inlays in their crevices. Matter of fact, the style rang synonymous with the entire room. Although, a little too obnoxious, it was beautiful in its own way. Not to everyone's liking, of course, he, himself, could not properly appreciate it– finding it, a little too glamorous. A glamor that was exaggerated by the fresh polish. He could quite clearly make out his own reflection.
To his shock and glee, the beaten and bruised armor of his father's that he had been, quite forcefully, wearing was gone. Plainly, gone. In its place, akin to the room's glamourous and exaggerated eye candy, was a freshly polished armor– it's coloring as dark as the abyss, with a bright burning Ayla of gold etched into the chestplate. To sweeten the deal, in a way, was a scarlet red cape. There was, something stitched on it, but he couldn't quite see it.
Strangely, the fancy piece resembled that of a Crescent Knight; it had the same queer mannerisms, as present in their armors. Although, it should be said, this particular piece was somehow different. He did not know how, exactly, but, at the same time, he felt it was different. It was bizarrely normal.
Reaching for his scabbard, he found it gone. This time… with no replacements. Isn't that, just great!
Lost in fascination of his new armor, the thuds and pleas of help went ignored by his ear. That was, until a shriek tore through the air, sending foreboding chills up his spine.
It came from, the upper balcony of the hall. He was sure of it. Without further thought, his feet carried him towards the source.
As he sped up the stairs, each step punctuated the shrieks. By now, he could scarcely make out the gender. It was, unarguably, feminine and, with horror seizing his heart, the voice sounded young. Too young. His pace, accelerated.
As he reached the room, onto which the balcony was attached, he found the door wide open, like a maw inviting him into the belly of the beast. Inside, oh god, the inside– it was, as if a maelstrom had torn through the room, scattering- throwing- breaking and shattering, everything and anything in sight. A diorama of war.
However, it was not this, that captured his gaze, tis was the heavily armed individual standing over a cowering, oh so young, girl. She must have been, hardly 11 or, at maximum, 12.
The man stood sword rearing into the air, poised to behead the poor, innocent, girl; the girl's horrified scream, acting as cover, Charles ran and pounced onto the man's back, his face crashing into the floor.
Rearing his fist back, Charles began rhythmically pounding the man's face into the floor. Again, again, again and again– a pause, a breath and again, again and again– another pause, his fist reared back, once more… only for a little body to tug it back.
“Stop! He's dead!” The young, melodious, voice shrieked in horror; her shivering finger, pointing in terror at the blood pooling amidst the animalistic savagery. The haze cleansed, and he winced; the man's skull had caved in, twisting at the back in an odd angle– almost flattening, like a slice of bread.
His gaze snapped to his fists. They were, unsurprisingly, covered in blood and grime. Disgusting! He shrieked in his mind, and quickly wiped his hands against the dead man's cloak, turning it from a pearly blue to a foreboding crimson red.
All the while, the little girl watched in morbid fascination. Interesting, she surmised in her head; the knight, while certainly a savage brute, was undoubtedly, here to protect her. Heavens bless his kind soul!