The colour red.
The stench of burnt meat.
The cries and screams of men and women echoed throughout the darkness, equally terrifying just as they were unsettling. Avels eyes snapped open, feeling the searing purple moonlight upon his face. His body remained numb, his chest felt heavy, and his breath was short and rapid, each intake felt sharp, stinging pain coursing through his veins. Amongst all that pain, the most painful of all was that which he felt as a result of his mind. The faces of the deceased flashed throughout his mind as he stared up and the grey ceiling. Men, Women, Soldiers, their lifeless forms clear as day upon the grey mould. With a forceful gasp of air into his lungs, Avel sprung onto his feet, unable to properly hold himself up as he swayed stumbling onto the black glass tiles beneath him. Glass tiles? No, they were black marble tiles. The young prince clung onto the floor, trying to stop his head from spinning, trying to drown out the cries that echoed in his mind. He wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop. Surely enough, the episode subsided as fast as it had come leaving behind a tingling sensation that ticked his veins. A euphoric sensation that often arose from pain. A single tear fell upon the glass like surface beneath him, he watched the blue bubble blend in beautifully with the glass marble. In it he could see purple eyes glaring up at him. His golden face still unfazed and void of any visible emotion. His head felt light, his thoughts- scrambled.
What he felt within himself was vastly different from what was looking up at him. His insides were churning. Thoughts at the farthest corners of his mind foreboding something that made him grow uneasy as each second passed. Picking himself up, he paced himself into the open bathroom which held the same design as his bedroom. Inside the mirror on his bathroom wall, he helped himself to some vitamins and pain relief medication to help with his headaches. "Do you feel it?" Instinctively, he shifted to attack what was at his back, his heart quickly settling down at the sight of nothing in sight but a massive dark grey bathtub with see through white curtains. Deciding to ignore the voice, he turned to face the mirror. Washing away the morning fatigue with a few splashes of cold water on his face. The boy stared up at the date and time displayed on the mirror just above his head. Tropsdaime. (Second day of the week.) Currently during the early hours of the forty-eight-hour day. The soft voice was nothing new to him. Or was it? No, it was something he had lived with for his entire life. It had been a recurring thing ever since he was but a boy. Something his father, High King Ivane, had often referred to as a gift to his son and to their people. The voice was of a woman Avel had never met in his life. It held such a strange tone, a tone void of anything humane. Otherworldly. Eerie. Whatever the voices intentions were, it was right about one thing. Something felt different. Something felt amiss. Even though the young prince had just awoken his blood ran restless within him. Looking up to face himself once more, he stared deeply into his cursed violet eyes. Within them, he could see it as clear as day. The bodies of his people, drained of all colour and void of any presence in them. The price of the battles he had been fighting was starting to prove itself high. Seemingly, each time he closed his eyes, he could see the faces of his people and their foes all lying together lifeless amongst the flames of chaos that ravaged everything in their path. The young boy squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his mind to focus on the present. Though he did not care for much, he held his apartment with much appreciation. It was the only place he felt truly at peace. The silence that came with it eased his mind like no other place could. Silence? Avel cherished the silence in between the ticks of the clock his aunt, Lavonna had given him. It was an old-fashioned piece of technology, useless, but he loved it none the less. Why was there no ticking? Upper right corner, at the edge of the wall is where the white clock face hung. Why is it not there? His eyes wondered to check if it had fallen. Surely enough, it sat on the ground. Barely scratched from the fall. Odd, the boy wondered when the clock had fallen. How come I did not hear it fall? Picking up the clock, he carefully placed it on the counter of his dressing table. So, he could change its battery at a later time, he would have to convert the power supply of the old relic. Once he had settled, he completed his daily rituals. He cleaned his teeth, bathed in the finest oils, and bore his grey shirt and black leather garments along with grey boots to match, he brushed the string of curly black strands on his head and tidied his bed, leaving his room once more as meticulously clean as it always was. In between cleaning, he admired his collection of crystallised sculptures he had made ever since was a little boy. His aunt had taught him many things, but sculpting and moulding Arathean crystals was his favourite. He had sculpted various ancient animals he had always hoped to see, creatures such as elephants, dolphins, dogs all weird names surely but at least these types of beasts did not wish to eat his kind. Every time Reya spoke of the old days, they sounded like a romanticised fallacy. How could she be so sure of something she had never seen or experienced. Avel deactivated the blinds that kept out the sunlight and he was beheld by the sight of the great city of Nara which was held in the great realm, Muddanon (Muthanon). From the open view of his apartment, he could see the Red Tower. It was ways away but visible none the less given it was the tallest building in the entire realm of Muddanon. He marvelled at the sight as he feasted on an apple, the only delicacy he had grown to love throughout his entire life. From his window, he could see the XS trains zooming across long distances at great speeds. He could see tiny purple specs rush in varying directions, all busy people rushing to perform whatever task they could, all for their King and Kingdom. To drown the surging feeling of melancholy that often came with nothing to do he grabbed his holographic projector and began to scroll through its contents, a hobby the boy found himself doing from time to time. Reading anything interesting he could find. This time, A paper titled: The Identity of The Self, head faced down, and palms clasped together, he contemplated the marvellous work of psychology he had just read. Something nudged at his heart as he wondered why he could not resonate fully with the thesis written by Doctor Bernard Cooper. If the entire concept of the self was based purely off of choice, then that would entirely rule out the nature of someone. Choosing to do something right wouldn't necessarily mean that one wanted to do it. One might hate doing something but still do it, nevertheless. With that in mind, which would be the true self. The nature telling him not to do something because he hates it or the choice one makes to do that which he does not whole heartedly agree with. By choosing to do something you do not want to do felt like self-betrayal. However, making a hard choice to do the right thing rather than the easier and less tiring one showed great character and a reliable personality. The idea of the self-seemed more elusive to him than when he had started reading the paper. Am I not supposed to be doing something important? As if having read his mind, a loud knock descended upon the grand grey door. The boy rushed to open it and was surprised to see his sister before him. Her fiery purple eyes glaring up at him. Purple? Her fiery red eyes staring up at him. An unsettling feeling rushed up his spine as he wondered what was going on. Nora never visited Avel. None of the Kings children besides him were in Nara. Every other member of the royal house were at the capital along with the High King. "Who are you?" The boy grumbled through his teeth as he watched the girls eyes slowly drift away from red to utter black. An unsettling dark mist emanated from her mouth as she hissed at the young prince. A Dark Angel. Alarmed, Avel reached for the beings neck and immediately it dissipated into black mist in his clasp. Covering his mouth, he stopped himself from inhaling its essence as the black mist quickly grew, engulfing everything in sight. Dark Angels though physically weak held wicked mind-altering gifts. Their black breath could drive any manner of creature mad by forcing it to live within nightmares. Nightmares so real and vivid they would grow to kill you. As the mist slowly began to clear, Avel found himself standing inside a crumbling hall of an old temple. The place held little to no light, only strips of purple sunlight peering through the cracks of the crumbling roof. That's right. He thought to himself as his mind and memories quickly snapped back into place. The High King had sent him to the abandoned city of Garcinia to close the breach and end the corruption that plagues the city, that was part his test for the choosing. Garcinia was a dangerous place, forbidden for all to enter or even visit. Myths of beings of such horrors guarding the land plagued the lands of Muddanon. Rumours that Avel thought held true as seemingly even the Grand Maiden herself feared the place. As the lieutenant of the High Kings elite force, it befell upon Avel to assess the situation and reclaim the lost city for his King and Father, Ivane the second. He had to find the creature responsible for the corruption, but as it seems this creature had also opened a red gate – a dangerous portal connecting the world unknown to present reality. A portal to the other side. The side where monsters dwelled, lurking and waiting to escape and enter their world. Now he had to rid of the red gate and cut out the dark forces that threatened his peoples way of life. A task that would most likely prove tricky if the information from Araikus was correct. Dark Angels guarded the land. Vicious creatures known for their heinous nature. Only those of strong minds and hearts lived to tell about them. Even those testimonies proved useless as little information was known about what they actually looked like. What worried the boy more was the fact that no one who had ever entered Garcinia had survived to tell the tale. The Grand Maiden spoke of few who had seen the cities horrors, but such sights had shattered their minds, leading them into a downward spiral of madness. Whatever lurked within Garcinia must have been serious if the Black Witch herself refused to set foot anywhere near the long-abandoned city. The air is dry and fairly thin, Avel thought as he began to calm his heavy breathing until it was nearly silent. He stood, hand still guarding his face, scouting the room, taking in everything that surrounded him. Fallen debris mostly columns, ancient statues, an old oak table, broken down chairs, a large collapsed chandelier and dead corpses resting atop rotten meat. From the looks of it, there sat twelve dead bodies sat around the table. Pale blue in colour, lifeless, hardly any meat on their bodies, mostly skeletons. These people had been dead for a really long time. Avel wondered if the Dark Angel had killed them as he slowly paced himself forward towards the open golden doors leading into what looked like an open chamber. Each step slow, silent, his right arm stiff by his side as his left covered his nose. Body slightly tilted so he could quickly defend his back if the situation called for it. His eyes darted around the room, awaiting to catch sight of the dark creature.
The colour red.
The stench of burnt meat.
The very last thing Avel remembered before the Angel began to mess around with his mind.
My men?
The thought crossed the boys mind, he quickly took a glance behind him, to face the door he did not remember walking through, it was covered by a ghastly looking red shimmer. It reeked of old magic, simple, powerful, and fairly effective. The Red Legion (Kings elite force) were possibly trapped on the other end of that door, most likely dead, if his dreams were any indication to what had transpired. A sudden rush of wind brushed over his back, a feint, crackling chuckle echoed in the silence that encompassed the hall. The young prince reached for his orb, hoisted by his hip. As he held the metallic glowing orb, its contents began to flow, fully forming a crystallised sword. The metal helm of the blade felt reassuring as he held it within the grasp of his black leather glove. The purple streams of light reflected beautifully off the clear crystal blade as he twirled it skilfully, warming himself up, ready to strike. A shadow – whooshed- past the boy, growing bolder in its approach. A streak of shadows darted in front of him, and the then they zoomed behind him, a pattern that repeated once more. The cackling of the creature indicated to Avel that it was taking pleasure in playing with its intended victim. The vile nature of these corrupted magical beasts sicked him. Upon its next rush, Avel slashed at it, watching as his blade cut through the thick black fog the Angel left as it travelled.
As the angel had been toying with its victim, Avel had no choice but to play along. Stalling. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness within the old temples hall. He watched as the purple outline of the creature nestled at the upper right corner of the hall, thinking itself secure, behind the shadows. There was no amount of shadow that would hide such vileness from the boys eyes. All-seeing. The demon lunged off the ceiling, charging, fast, towards the young prince. He dove out of the way, feeling its presence swoosh past him. The boy held a crouching stance, as he watched the creature darting off the wall, heading back, straight for him. Swiftly, he rolled out of the way, shifted his body to seize the chance given, slicing the back of the beasts knee. It shrieked in agony, as it attempted to retreat into the shadows, unaware its presence could no longer be hidden. The young prince reflected a stream of light falling from the roof onto the beasts hideous face using the crystal blade. Even though he could not see its face clearly, he could see its teeth stuck out, salivating with anger and hunger. Its body outstretched, its massive, deformed wings flapping uncontrollably yet silently. You're angry, good, the boy thought to himself as he twirled his sword in anticipation. Like people, when beasts were angered, they grew irrational. The less smart the beast, the easier it would be to kill. As the beast lunged itself at Avel, he threw his entire weight onto the floor, avoiding its grasp but most importantly. Creating a chance. He plunged his crystallised blade into Angels stomach, feeling it go through its spine. Before the beast could shriek in pain, Avel extracted his blade, outstretching it over his head. Forcefully, he swung for the beasts head, tearing it in half. Black blood, gushed over Avels face as the two halves fell before him. Its guts, blood, indigested prey, and excrement all poured out.
Disgusting, the boy thought as he wiped his face clean using the black shawl draping over his shoulders. He slashed the blood off his sword as he peered further into the room just beyond. Resting his sword upon his left shoulder, he began to march further, further into the unknown that awaited him. Expected him.
The further the boy pushed forth, the weirder everything seemed to become. What started off as large crumbling halls, slowly shrunk to dark passages, the walls covered in what appeared to be moss, damp-sticky-moist moss sliding from the roof. From the moss, sprouted something the boy thought to be spores, as hazy, and thick as smoke. A colour he could not perceive even thorough his partially blind eyes, eyes in which he could perceive most as they should and could be. Whatever it was, it stretched, thinly into and along the walls, shifting away from the young prince as he paced himself down the narrow corridor. The place felt as if it were alive, reacting and retreating from him. At least I don't have to touch it, the effects of such a thing would most likely be deadly.
The once stale air grew more rancid, it smelt of rotten fruit, specifically, rotten Musa acuminata. It was quite peculiar. The moss grew to become vines, vines not like anything Avel had ever seen before, growing from within the walls. Thin, interviewing and from the looks of it, corrosive. The vines had eaten through the surface of the walls leaving in them gaps, similar to those termites left as they ate through wood, gaps that seeped forth black sap. There was a low hum in the air, the sound of rustling wind, the path slowly growing narrower the further you went.
Light.
Dim yellow light shone through the narrow gap, Avel figured it led to a clearing or some sort of open space given that he could hear the whizzing of whistling wind ahead. Surely enough a clearing presented itself once he had squeezed himself through the narrow gap.
What the…
Stone marble walls, all black, curving into each other. There were no visible corners, just an unending labyrinth of designs of unknown origins and shape. The sunlight emanating from the cracks of the roof refracted upon the black marble surfaces, splitting the colour of the purple sunlight, changing its spectrum to varying colours. What he had seen and thought to be yellow was just a part something he could not explain. Just breath-taking, unfathomably breath-taking in its beauty. Avel jumped from the elevated surface he stood, landing roughly on the glass like surface. It was as solid as it looked and fairly slippery. Extending his arm, he could feel the warmth of the refracted light even through his dark gloves. This was no ordinary light as well, it danced and shifted along with the swaying of his hand, dispersed with the clasping of his palm. Is this dust or light? Questions began to arise, surely light was not visible. Then again, the rules of logic hardly dictated much when it came to magic. Or as his father's royal advisor, Carl Vestors liked to call it, advanced science. "Avel…" A feint breath filled call of his name forced the boy to stand on guard, ready and expecting. His fascination with the area quickly waned as his mind focused once more on his goal. "Avel." The voice called forth his name, as silent as a plea. Though there was no creature in sight it felt close. The walls, the boy crept towards the prickly looking walls surrounding everything. Gently, he rested his left palm against the glass like surface, in his right palm he held his metal orb, feeling as it fully filled to become his crystallised blade.
There was a low rumble in the air as the walls began to shift and churn. Spreading forth like flowing paint – black paint. Slowly, he backed away, watching as the walls bubbled and boiled. I think it was about to pull me in. It was a gut feeling. There was something dwelling beyond the unending expanse of deep, hellish darkness, something that had called to him.
'Why did you back away?'
The image of his grey bearded father staring down at him with dark orange eyes overtook his thoughts. This was the assignment. The displeased look upon his father's face brought forth memories he often wish he could not recall.
There was no room for fear. For fear was the Jailer.
'Fear inhibits the mind,' his father had said. 'One cannot rule a planet out of fear. To conquer the universe, one must first conquer his own mind.'
Avel paced himself towards the bubbling walls, his free arm outstretched, watching as the walls began to react to him. The darkness slowly began to separate from itself, exposing what it held beyond and behind what was once there and now seemingly no more. An extension of the once tiny room revealed itself. The light stretched further into the new patch of land, showing nothing new excerpt a dark pedestal with intricate golden etchings in symbols the boy could not recognise.
Essence.
The first thought that entered his mind was of the mystic arts. All his teachings pointed to that. Whatever creature loomed within the halls of the old temple was powerful. The essence used seemingly distorted space, which was the only way Avel could explain how a once tiny temple had so many depths within it.
Drip- drip. With each step he took the sound got louder as if an indication of something.
Water?
Several thoughts began to run through his mind, a dangerous mistake to make. Wonder was a luxury he did not have. He was severely disadvantaged. He did not know where he was, what time or day it currently was. All he knew is he was in enemy territory. An enemy he did not know, in a place of mystique that he could not possibly begin to understand. Vigilance was the only option he had left. A cold breeze brushed against his skin, as clicking filled his ears against the backdrop of the endless dripping droplets. The was something disorienting about it. Something not quite natural. The more he focused on finding the source of the sound the more he found himself drawn to the pedestal which was now just a few paces away. Drip- drip- drip, silence, drip- drip, silence, drip-drip-drip-click-drip-click. There was no regular pattern to the sound, dripping and clicking. Fast, sharp, and clear sounds. Is that really water? The more he listened the less sure he became about what he was hearing. It sounded like fast droplets banging against the underside of a bucket or a drum. It also sounded like creaking, static, white noise. It was reverberating, inconstant, unsettling. The louder the sound got, the harder the boy focused his eyes upon the pedestal. Even though most things were partially blurred to him something was not right with that pedestal. He could feel the strain on his eyes as he held his gaze atop the platform. His breath grew sharp as he found himself staring at an outline of something. A shifting low shimmer, refraction of something absently present. It was there. Something void of presence, visible in between the blurs of the boys faulty vision. Captivated by the ordeal, the boy stared into the nothingness before him, struggling to contemplate what he held in his sight. A suggestion of endless appearance and shape. In the nothing before him was something. A thought that brought forth a light tingling within his body. His head felt light, and his stomach began to feel agitated. His body was not reacting well to the capturer of his gaze, even then, he could not tear his attention away. It held him, trapped him, unable to tear his sights away. It was the not knowing that formed an itch in the back of his mind. Could something truly lay visible within the invisible?
Was his mind falling prey to the trickery of the essence within the temple?
The more he gazed the more everything came into focus. Curiosity had completely overtaken him. He watched as the unknown rapidly flashed into view. Refracted and shimmering spots of colour shifted and sifted within a singular body, like spots of a cow, the rest was vile. The colours were not known to Avel. Flowing lumps of fading greenish, grey for skin. Patches of it invisible and the rest refracted, like a dog with its skin turned inside out whilst its skin tone was one of vomit, greenish vomit, lumps prickling through its figure, flowing, forming, dispersing, and reforming. A beast solely comprised of matter which appeared as forcefully discharged stomach contents. Harsh rumbling erupted from the boys stomach, following a sharp stinging pain that churned and stirred within his mind. His feet gave way as he bellowed in agony, overcome by the sharpness and suddenness of it all. It Burned. The feeling of sickness overtook him, he clenched onto his insides, feeling as the contents within rushed to the surface; he could not help but let it all out. His eyes stung, engraved in them a grievance that begged them to be plucked out and bleached clean from the contents. His body was disoriented, it was hard to tell what he had seen or what he thought he had glimpsed. Every fibre of his being was searing with unbearable pain.
His first instinct was to fight, fight to stay conscious.
Fight to control his emotions and focus less on his pain.
Loss of control would only guarantee his death.
It felt as if everything within him wanted out. In that moment, for what felt like an eternity, the boy felt like begging. Begging for death, he begged for the pain to ease, for the image within his mind to seize. A daunting image barely recognisable or rememberable had etched itself into his being and his being now yearned to get out from within itself. Never had he ever felt so uncomfortable to be in his own skin. The thought of ripping his skin from his own flesh to ease his pain rang throughout the burning sensation he knew as his brain. A thought that quickly passed as more of his insides burst out from the depths connected to his throat. To ease his suffering, he plunged his sword into the ground before him so he could squeeze his palm across the edges to feel the stinging pain crystal cutting to his bones. When that failed to ease his tortured mind, the sight of the marble like floor surface began to seem inviting. Death felt like the only way out for him now. No amount of weapons training or witchcraft could ease what had ensued.
Drip-drip-drip-drum-drum-click Drip-drum-drum-drip-click-drip That damned sound. The sounds of a clicking tongue echoed over the boy who now clutched onto himself. It felt full, reverberating, creaking, layered. MALIGNANT. Deep anger swirled from within the depths on the boys essence, to die at the edge of Nara through self-soiling was the worst possible death one could ever face. The Humiliation of it would surely weaken the Valinski name. And the Valinski household was not weak. 'I am the wrath that comes with the night. I am the sword that cuts through the darkness and the vision that brings forth the light.'
'I…AM....'
"WRATH!"
Forcefully he bit down on his teeth, his blood gushing down his chin. His heart was content with hate; hate at the thought of humiliation. Hate at the thought of dying at the sight of a cowardly sheepdog if it even was that. As confusion and pain filled his mind, he slammed against his chest to solidify his will. Tilting his head upwards, he faced the mass of nothingness before him, pressing harder against his teeth so as to not focus on the unconceivable structure before. His legs shaking, his knees weak as he raised himself from the ground. Pride filled him as his anger rose, for what creature would dare embarrass the High Prince. All that dawned within the universe was his, nothing and on one was above him. Nothing and no one was better than him, for he was everything. The ruler and the shaper of the realm in which they resided. The son of the greatest empire that ever was and will ever come to be. All would bow before him and recite his families greatness. The Valinski famiglia, descendants of the oldest of races in all of existence. Royalty in its purest form. The boy screamed in agony as he charged towards the being, his sword outstretched. Without fail, he struck his fore, fast and swift. The mass of matter dispersed, into a wide array of bubbling cells of fantastical colours, colours unrecognisable to the boy. Bright, deeper in their essence and more well-toned than anything he had ever seen before. Astonishing, a word that seemed so futile in the presence of such fullness and vibrance. "What are you?" He asked in a hushed tone, watching as the miniature blobs of moving colour that surrounded him gather, suggesting themselves into what seemed like a marvellous spherical entity, one of cosmic and unrecognisable chromaticism. At its centre, an opening, as bright as a miniature star the size of the boys palm. The flared, shifted, and entwined into fantastical structures and shapes. Emitting a low hum, like the sound of current flowing through its being. It twisted, bubbled, boiled, vibrated, and strained in all directions simultaneously. Some of its contents shifting into and out of the boys visible spectrum. The entity burst forth from itself, rushing into the young, startled boy, filling his essence with its own. The gleam blurred what little vision the boy held, he could only feel the heat as his invader slid down his throat, its taste that of burning brimstone. The immense heat and intense bitterness of it all vanished almost as quickly as it had begun. Heaviness overtook the boy as he felt the immense numbing intensity of electricity flaring in his veins. His mind was overcome by euphoric pressure as his body fell to the ground, leaving him shaking uncontrollably, flailing about as his limbs twitched with immense bursts of spasms.
His body froze.
His mind stopped.
In that moment,
He was no more.