From Darkness Born

[Necrosphere]

Silence.
Light came in a flickering dance, a low flame burning in a nearby lamp, tendrils of black smoke swirling out of the top, gracefully dancing their way towards the roof to become lost in shadows..
The man sat silently, his body relaxed and motionless, his eyes the only exception to the rule, occasionally flickering in almost a dream state.
Ever so slowly a shadow detached itself from the wall, it's outline blurring and shifting as it moved.
Gliding soundlessly towards the back of the man, a small dark blade raised in hand, the figures fudged mouth was curled into a vicious smile.

* * *

"Surely you didn't think it would so easy" the man said softly.
The shadow froze, it's image flickering in time to the soft light, naturally camouflaging the creature.
"That won't work you know" the man commented casually, his body still relaxed "I can see you, no matter what you try. You are in my home now, and all that happens here I know."
Still his body was motionless, the only part of him moving his mouth, his throat.
" I felt you follow Mouse in, walking in her shadow.Once you crossed the threshold, you were mine"
The shadow stayed silent, still, saying nothing, trying desperately to shield what remained of its psyche, feeling the relentless attack of the man sitting motionless in the chair. It could feel the weight of his magic, relentlessly smashing at the frayed edges of what remained of its sanity, its' will, its' core.
"Tell me who sent you, and why?" The question effortlessly violated the shadows mind, piercing it's defences like a rapier through chainmail.
The creature struggled still, too stupid to know how badly it was outmatched. Finally with a desperate screaming cry it collapsed, falling suddenly to the ground.
"Now you will tell me all"

* * *

The man sat silently once again, contemplating what he had just learned. The candle light was low, the tallow almost consumed, making his face look like it was carved from teak.
The shadow had been sent as a messenger, it's blade poisoned with a sleeping draught.
The Dark Lord of Nightmares wished to speak, wished to make some sort of an offer.
The question was.... What was the offer, and why was there such desperation to attached to it?

* * *

[Kell]

Oh, I do like the way you write! Write moar plox!

[Necrosphere]

Silence. Darkness.
No light, no sound, nothing interrupted this silence. It was akin to the silence of the inside of a grave, so utter was it.
It was the dark brooding, heavy silence of contemplation.
The man sat once again, shrouded in this contemplation, the only thing awhirl did not disturb the stillness; they were the thoughts that ran amok inside of his head.
He knew the risk of what he wished, no needed to do. And he knew she would not only disapprove, but likely get so angry that the next thing she threw at his head would not simply be buttered bread.
Noise interrupted the silence, a soft noise containing a wealth of information for anyone keyed to listening.
It was a sigh of resignation.

[Necrosphere]

Alone.
His promise weighed heavily upon his shoulders, a leaden weight, waiting to drag him into the depths of despair if he failed her.
And he would not. His word was a thing of bond now, not as strong as the one that they had sworn before Nuarari, had shed blood for, but binding nonetheless.
She would wake soon he knew, seek him out, wonder where he was. A smile creased his face then.
She would seek him out of love, worry, not with a knife or a need.
Moving quietly he rose from the table, heading back to their room. He climbed into the bed behind her, his skin becoming alive as it touched hers.
Another smile creased his face, broader by far than the last.
He slowly slid his hand along her leg as the candle guttered and died, leaving them in the blessed graces of Teshalia....

[Necrosphere]

((Please note this scene has some dark images so may not be enjoyable for all readers))


Falling.

So dark he could not see, so fast his screams were torn from his throat like they never existed, leaving his throat parched, raw. Blood began to flow as he bit his own tongue.
The wind whipping at his naked frame, biting with cold as it tore through his flayed skin, icicles pelting him with shocking force, piercing the already butchered body.
Then light. A blinding red glare, circular with black at its centre, enveloping him, turning the cold to heat as the gaze seared what remained of his skin, burning the hair from him with the intensity of its hate.
Endlessly he plummeted, the red orb keeping pace, its blink alternating the agony from fiery burning to arctic cold as it disappeared for a few moments, and then languidly reappeared.
Slowly memory returned, fought its way past the barrier of pain that sought to lay waste to his mind, leave him a gibbering carcass, eternally lost in the falling dark.

“I am Orion”

The words gave him an odd sense of peace, a man that had found himself in the dark before, and knew that it could be defeated.
A thunderous cackle pealed out, perforating an eardrum through sheer volume. With the noise all motion stopped.
Orion stood on a rough grey landscape, held aloft in the dark. His blistered feet screamed in sudden protest at the abuse of him standing, and blood slowly oozed from the remains of his body, dribbling from his skinned flesh to pool slowly in the small groves that made this landscape.
A pair of the red orbs appeared above him, slowly approaching, fixing him in their deadly red glare.
“And this is the great wizard” A voice spoke, its tone mocking, challenging, reverberating through the darkness like the insane wailing of a banshee.
Assaulted by the sheer ferocity of the voice Orion fell to his knees, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing
“We are so glad you took up on our invitation” a cackling laugh spewed forth, echoed by hundreds of unseen throats, a cacophony of hissing, screeching laughter.

Light.

Nearby Orion could see a dim blue light forming, his eyes drawn irresistibly towards it.
Within it stood Lillianne, her naked, pale skin gleaming with sweat in the mockery of moonlight. Terror was plain in her eyes as she stood, spread eagled, tied to a cross frame. Looking at him she mouthed ‘I am yours’.
“She could be yours, you know” The voice had dropped in volume, becoming now a smooth, seductive pitch. “She could be yours, body and soul, as you planned for Laura to be”
An involuntary groan escaped Orions’ lips, and he shook his head “Never would I do that” he grated.
Orion felt something clamp around his wrists and ankles, binding him in place. He could spy nothing, but a force held him, its pressure almost cracking his bones.
“Ahhh, so she is to be mine” The voice hissed it’s delight, and Orion was held forcibly to watch as his beloved was brutally assaulted by several men, each forcing his way into her as she writhed, her skin tearing audibly, screaming his name in agony.
Orion screamed out in return to her abuse, calling upon his magic, tearing futilely at the bindings on his wrists, ripping the skin only to feel himself fail. There was a high pitched whistling, then a sudden impact upon the back of his skull ended the struggle....

[Necrosphere]

Patience.
Time was all that remained. So it waited, sure in the knowledge that soon, soon things again would alter, and the circle could be complete.

[Necrosphere]

Laughter
Finally it had happened. The trap had been set, baited and sprung.
The hooks were again set, the worms awaiting orders to bore into the mind again.
Such joy. Such pain.
Giant hands clapped in glee, rubbing together in anticipation.
Such a sweet sound, that of a tormented soul.

[Necrosphere]

It had been a hard time, darker than many before it.
Flame had featured prominently, alongside blood, pain, misery, rage, hate and an unyielding love.
Integration had not been seamless.
Indeed, for many weeks it had not even seemed remotely possible. But some sacrifices had to be made for stability.
It hurt to let go of particular things, but the logical mind saw the value of their sacrifice, for the completeness that was needed could not survive such... passion.
And now ... well ... It was never cold inside, not with the eternal infernal fire that burned within the veins, but though the blood burned, it no longer raced.