Interlude 2.1: Twisted Prophecy
[Caim’s POV]
"Now, let us commence. I grow weary of waiting," I yawned, feeling a sense of impatience settling in. The sovereign had certainly played favorites by bestowing weaponry upon the two newcomers. But, I thought, it would be prudent to hold off on complaints until after our play had unfolded within the castle of twilight. A mischievous chuckle escaped my lips, a touch of madness in the air.
The inevitable occurred as the force of gravity, dark and foreboding, brought the floating island crashing down onto the ruptured mountain below. The elf leading our group signaled for us to clear the path so they could advance and place the last piece of a peculiar artifact, presumably to turn the tide of this unfolding drama. Did it truly necessitate such an effort?
"Let's make it interesting, shall we? Whoever slays the fewest abominations will be responsible for providing the alcohol later," I declared as I wielded my sharpened feathers, slicing through the grotesque foes. Although it would have been more efficient to employ plague fungus against these abominations, their vulnerability compelled me to refrain from unleashing too much of my radiant power.
"This isn't a contest... but your offer does intrigue me," Stolas murmured from beneath its cloak, still concealing its true form. It was fortunate that it possessed the bloodline of the sloth monarch. Couldn't the elf have developed some resistance to the plague? My moment in the limelight seemed to be slipping away.
We proceeded through the west gate as planned, allowing me a moment to rest my weary wings and cleanse them of the abominations' tainted blood. Their blood was far from pure, and a desire to taste the sovereign's blood welled up within me, overshadowing the current craving.
As these thoughts swirled within my mind, an unbound chimera appeared before us. What mad scheme did the seraphim have for remaking the Strengths now? The child of Sloth nonchalantly cast 'Noctrume,' causing the abominations to fall in rows. However, one of them remained standing, defying the eerie enchantment.
A scythe thrust from the shadow, severing the elf’s arm. Causing it to deteriorate into dust, if it were to touch other things, the result would be catastrophic
"Ash, librarian! Uriel has lost her arm. Please provide immediate support while I complete the signal," How nobly does the little hero flock to the wounded damsel? I guess it’s our job to hold down the dragon until the heroes take the holy sword.
Inside the sanctum, the mad dog holds its scythes menacing against us. There wouldn’t be pleasantry for a dog then?
"The treacherous traitor still breathes! Perhaps I have grown complacent after claiming the souls of the soul of that homunculus," The dog barks its treacherous warth. His scythes clash with my sharpened claws, igniting a burst of fiery confrontation. As Azazel's flesh is torn apart, his pained screams intermingle with maniacal laughter.
"Have you relished in their suffering? You needn't lift a finger to experiment with the most intriguing subjects at your disposal," Stolas remarks, deftly twisting Azazel's wrists, rendering them useless as his rapid healing tries to keep up. How envious would I be with that much grips compared to Stolas’s tentacle?
“Oh my, librarian. Your drool is showing, but can’t blame you for being the only one since I am also curious about how can I rip them from this Canidae” With a swift motion, I slice through Azazel's limbs effortlessly, reveling in the sight and taste of his blood.
The relentless battle raged on, each slash of my blade accompanied by a taste of the dog's blood. It seemed the creature could regenerate endlessly. Wasn't it time for the soul severer to work its magic?
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"Child, isn't it time for your contraption to do its work? Are you trying to work us to death?" I sneered, directing my question at Ragnorr, seeking an answer about the activation of the device. Their faces were etched with despair. Now I remembered what had been missing from the scene.
The sky remained an odd shade of blue, devoid of the blackish eclipse that the small sovereign had described. Where had everything gone wrong?
"Got you distracted," the Holy dog snarled and slammed us to the ground, causing the earth to rupture and separating me from Stolas. It seemed intent on executing us one by one. I couldn't allow that. If someone was going to make a heroic sacrifice, it should be me. I rushed toward the massive beast, but I was a step too late.
"Even with my last breath, you shall be blinded by my star's brilliance!" Stolas, you fool. It had activated the curse of star and dream at the cost of its own lifespan. The dog's movements grew more sluggish and eventually came to a complete stop. So did the lifespan of the manifestation of dreams.
"You fool, Stolas. There were other ways, why did you choose this path?" I rushed over to where Stolas had vanished into the merciless sky. It hadn't yet turned to night, but the star had arrived.
"I have done well, haven't I, Caim? Tell them I haven't yet obtained their journal..." Those were Stolas's final words before its light dimmed into day fireflies, scattering.
At this point, we couldn't finish off the mad dog. The only option was to retreat and wait for the sovereign to activate the Marching of Darkness. We wouldn't allow Stolas's sacrifice to be in vain.
"There is another way to activate the cycle severer," Ragnorr stood beside the machine with a sorrowful expression. The young fool didn't mean... Uriel, please change his mind. You were his damsel, right? You must!
"Then it shall be... My deepest apologies for losing such a good friend," Uriel's words struck my heart. Was there truly no other way?
"Take my heart instead, my soul, my everything. Please, don't do this," I pleaded, but Ragnorr remained resolute.
"You have to keep on living, my lady. There are people waiting for you beyond this bloody battlefield," he said as he placed his soul into the machine. As it ran red, so did the life of the descendant of the Sloth monarch fade away.
"This is a tear... Finally, I embrace my final slumber," were his last words, a simple wish to sleep, not to be remembered or glorified, just to sleep. I raised my feather toward the unconscious body of the Holy dog, but it was stopped by the elf's hand.
"I will take its life, for it has taken too much from me. Please, allow me this release, royal messenger." It was unfair... her words and the anguish in her eyes. Today, we both lost an important part of ourselves. But I was not the heroine of this story. I let her deliver the final blow.
A blast of light engulfed, her hands as the string let loose out last time to strike the dog. It’s over, it's truly over…
“For the flame of hell, I prepared to be scorched by. For this sacrilege, I shall orchestrate a demise for you most excruciating." Azazel advanced, poised to strike. A sudden knock to Uriel as she falls to her knee
['Last judgment']
"There exists a fabled tale of my predecessor, for I am not the first to tread this path and inherit the legacy of Lord Azazel. A dire fate awaits those who walk the final mission under the name 'Azazel'. It surpasses the mere concept of death." Blood stains its lips as it takes faltering steps forward, shedding vulnerability like a rabid hound.
"In his refusal to succumb to the wrong path, my predecessor devised a mechanism embedded within Lord Azazel's legacy. My last judgment shall inflict upon you the torment of the most abominable demise."
Uriel lunges, her blade aimed at the heart of the deranged beast, yet her strike arrives too late as it has drawn its last breath. I underestimated the stakes, recklessly seeking accolades in this perilous encounter.
"No... no! It can't be. I was supposed to make it through this... I'm sorry, my sister, for breaking our promise." She began to burn away, and I stood there, filled with despair, witnessing the last survivor of this gruesome battle. Tears welled up in her eyes but dried in an instant as my heart turned cold.
Watching the main heroine take her final breath, I couldn't help but release a sigh. "Why should I continue to live? What kind of jester am I when all of my fellow cast members are gone?" These words felt so futile now, as there was no one left to hear them. Gone were the days of lively chatter, the eager children, or the laughter of the dreaming owl.
I found myself in a place where the bickering of children and the joyous laughter of the owl were but distant memories. I wondered if I had been spared from this lonely fate, or if it was instead a punishment for my role in the second rebellion. At this point, I wished for nothing more than for this jester to meet her end and bring closure to this darkest of tragedies.
All I could do now was to provide them with a resting place... a flower bed for each, a grave dedicated to the dearest friends I had outlived.
The end