"So, you came with assassins." The voice was soft, but not in the least pleasant.
Aerik narrowed her eyes, stepping forward, squared up as though to fight, her were-dog instincts fighting to emerge. "It's what you deserve," she snarled, trying desperately to reign in the urge to lunge forward and tear out his throat, with fifty guards surrounding them.
"Oh, I think you misunderstood," Torvald leaned back leisurely. "It was Torvald you came to kill. The man is, I believe, still blissfully unaware of your existence. And happens to be on a campaign in the West right now, with the rest of his army. You never were chasing Torvald."
Aerik took a step back, her eyes narrowing further. "You're stalling," she hissed.
"Am I?" He waved a hand idly at one of the guards, who reached up to his helmet, pulling it off. A grotesque figure greeted their eyes, half-ethereal, half mismatched parts, as though someone had tried to sew a ghost to a body without knowing how it worked. Aerik almost tripped backwards at the sight.
"Oh, hadn't you heard? These are your acquaintances, from Colsar. People who didn't hit that little safety net of the Spirits', when you broke everything. A nasty business. Would you like me to point some out to you?" He smiled, an awful, thin smile. "But it's beside the point. You're here for your trial, and then you're going to help me erase the Spirits for good."
"So, you came with assassins." The voice was soft, but not in the least pleasant.
Aerik narrowed her eyes, stepping forward, squared up as though to fight, her were-dog instincts fighting to emerge. "It's what you deserve," she snarled, trying desperately to reign in the urge to lunge forward and tear out his throat, with fifty guards surrounding them.
"Oh, I think you misunderstood," Torvald leaned back leisurely. "It was Torvald you came to kill. The man is, I believe, still blissfully unaware of your existence. And happens to be on a campaign in the West right now, with the rest of his army. You never were chasing Torvald."
Aerik took a step back, her eyes narrowing further. "You're stalling," she hissed.
"Am I?" He waved a hand idly at one of the guards, who reached up to his helmet, pulling it off. A grotesque figure greeted their eyes, half-ethereal, half mismatched parts, as though someone had tried to sew a ghost to a body without knowing how it worked. Aerik almost tripped backwards at the sight.
"Oh, hadn't you heard? These are your acquaintances, from Colsar. People who didn't hit that little safety net of the Spirits', when you broke everything. A nasty business. Would you like me to point some out to you?" He smiled, an awful, thin smile. "But it's beside the point. You're here for your trial, and then you're going to help me erase the Spirits for good."
Call felt a shiver shoot down his spine when the man's voice crept out of his throat, the soft tone only making him want to shove his fist through his face. He looked over at Aerik as she snarled at him, glaring at the man. He nodded to back her up in some way, even though his mind was clamoring to spit angry insults and never stop until his very last breath.
But then something came along and shocked that mind.
Wait... what??
This looked like Torvald, but it wasn't Torvald. How? He growled, and he was surprised at how... feral it sounded. Feral for a human, at least. No other emotion existed other than anger. However, upon seeing one of the guards lifted his helmet upon 'Torvald's' request, he gasped a little. He felt another shocking chill rocket down his spine, his arm pounding furiously as his heart nearly caught in his throat. Once he was told the truth about them, he seemed a bit... guilty. He felt bad that they hadn't been saved, but all the same...
That anger came rushing back, half-thanks to the Whisper, and half-thanks to himself. The Whisper was seething silently, not saying a word. It had known what occurred the last few times it snapped, and nothing had come of it every time. Thalia was growling loudly, but like the Whisper, she wasn't saying a word. Raven's growls were barely audible. But the moment, the very MOMENT 'Torvald' told the prisoners what they were to do, Call decided that he couldn't take it anymore.
It was too late to hold it back.
"Like HELL we'll help you!!"
The explosion had come quickly, and now, it was too late to stop. He couldn't stop. He had gone too far already, but this b*stard deserved it. He had taken a step forward, rather than backward. In the back of his mind, wild warnings were going off, trying desperately to get his attention. His arm was slung, he was injured, and yet here he was. He was nearly seeing red. His single grey eye soon ignited and became the same glowing, fiery orange as the other.
"Even if you aren't Torvald... there is no universe out there in which I, for one, would ever even THINK about helping YOU. Destroy the Spirits? NO. So if I were you right now, I would wipe that f**king smile off that face of yours and stand down... because you are p**sing off the wrong people, and that decision alone is going to DESTROY YOU."
Call felt a shiver shoot down his spine when the man's voice crept out of his throat, the soft tone only making him want to shove his fist through his face. He looked over at Aerik as she snarled at him, glaring at the man. He nodded to back her up in some way, even though his mind was clamoring to spit angry insults and never stop until his very last breath.
But then something came along and shocked that mind.
Wait... what??
This looked like Torvald, but it wasn't Torvald. How? He growled, and he was surprised at how... feral it sounded. Feral for a human, at least. No other emotion existed other than anger. However, upon seeing one of the guards lifted his helmet upon 'Torvald's' request, he gasped a little. He felt another shocking chill rocket down his spine, his arm pounding furiously as his heart nearly caught in his throat. Once he was told the truth about them, he seemed a bit... guilty. He felt bad that they hadn't been saved, but all the same...
That anger came rushing back, half-thanks to the Whisper, and half-thanks to himself. The Whisper was seething silently, not saying a word. It had known what occurred the last few times it snapped, and nothing had come of it every time. Thalia was growling loudly, but like the Whisper, she wasn't saying a word. Raven's growls were barely audible. But the moment, the very MOMENT 'Torvald' told the prisoners what they were to do, Call decided that he couldn't take it anymore.
It was too late to hold it back.
"Like HELL we'll help you!!"
The explosion had come quickly, and now, it was too late to stop. He couldn't stop. He had gone too far already, but this b*stard deserved it. He had taken a step forward, rather than backward. In the back of his mind, wild warnings were going off, trying desperately to get his attention. His arm was slung, he was injured, and yet here he was. He was nearly seeing red. His single grey eye soon ignited and became the same glowing, fiery orange as the other.
"Even if you aren't Torvald... there is no universe out there in which I, for one, would ever even THINK about helping YOU. Destroy the Spirits? NO. So if I were you right now, I would wipe that f**king smile off that face of yours and stand down... because you are p**sing off the wrong people, and that decision alone is going to DESTROY YOU."
Torvald listened, and when Call was done, he laughed.
It was a soft laugh, as though it was some personal joke, one he was sharing with himself. He sat back, relaxing on the throne, as though it was an idle chat. "I never said you would agree. The Spirits made a mistake when they split the timeline between them. They created unstable paradoxes, one cannot exist if the other plays its course, yet both must be allowed for by the other, if either is to be created. And then they sent a group - outside either timeline - to pass between both. Your existence is enough for me to work with."
He studied the arm of the throne for a moment. Aerik hissed, shaking with anger. "What are you?"
Torvald ignored the question. "When the Spirits locked the gods into the Rift, they opened the world to something far worse - the gaze of the Last Shadow. The Last Shadow is the Entity that created the universe, at the very centre of its being, its life-pulse. Out of its own curiosity it created the Worlds, and found it couldn't see them, become them, or live them. The Last Shadow itself is not a malicious creature. It sees all, and wishes to know all, and in doing so it steals Eyes. These Eyes imbue the world with the pure energy of the universe's Creation, something the Entity is made purely of. Each World this has been subjected to has been unable to take the strain."
He paused for a while before continuing, idly. "Even a glance at the Last Shadow corrupts and twists a soul beyond repair. A world burdened with its Eyes will wither, become brittle, and start to break apart. This was already starting to happen before the Exorcist shattered it."
"Of course, I'm not telling you this so that you'll help me destroy them. Oh, no... I prefer to be blunt. When the Gods were free, this little corner of the universe was living on Chaos, a power that has no equal beyond the veil. Humans, beasts... what does that matter to me? When my brothers were free, they were all fair game. Oh, the hunts we would have... You are the timeline's worst instability. To break the timeline is to break the Spirits connected with them. To do that, is to send the world back to its age of Chaos..."
Torvald listened, and when Call was done, he laughed.
It was a soft laugh, as though it was some personal joke, one he was sharing with himself. He sat back, relaxing on the throne, as though it was an idle chat. "I never said you would agree. The Spirits made a mistake when they split the timeline between them. They created unstable paradoxes, one cannot exist if the other plays its course, yet both must be allowed for by the other, if either is to be created. And then they sent a group - outside either timeline - to pass between both. Your existence is enough for me to work with."
He studied the arm of the throne for a moment. Aerik hissed, shaking with anger. "What are you?"
Torvald ignored the question. "When the Spirits locked the gods into the Rift, they opened the world to something far worse - the gaze of the Last Shadow. The Last Shadow is the Entity that created the universe, at the very centre of its being, its life-pulse. Out of its own curiosity it created the Worlds, and found it couldn't see them, become them, or live them. The Last Shadow itself is not a malicious creature. It sees all, and wishes to know all, and in doing so it steals Eyes. These Eyes imbue the world with the pure energy of the universe's Creation, something the Entity is made purely of. Each World this has been subjected to has been unable to take the strain."
He paused for a while before continuing, idly. "Even a glance at the Last Shadow corrupts and twists a soul beyond repair. A world burdened with its Eyes will wither, become brittle, and start to break apart. This was already starting to happen before the Exorcist shattered it."
"Of course, I'm not telling you this so that you'll help me destroy them. Oh, no... I prefer to be blunt. When the Gods were free, this little corner of the universe was living on Chaos, a power that has no equal beyond the veil. Humans, beasts... what does that matter to me? When my brothers were free, they were all fair game. Oh, the hunts we would have... You are the timeline's worst instability. To break the timeline is to break the Spirits connected with them. To do that, is to send the world back to its age of Chaos..."
The boy hissed at the laugh that followed his outburst. He couldn't stop himself from shaking with rage. His entire body was trembling, which only served to make the throbbing in his broken bones worse. In turn, it continued to fuel his blinding rage. He was seeing more red than he had before the laugh set upon his ears. He wanted to tear this b*stard apart.
When Aerik asked the man what he was, Call found himself wanting to know the same thing. However, 'Torvald' had skipped the question and continued talking, as if they didn't matter. But he wasn't prepared for what was said next.
He wasn't even close to being prepared.
He froze in shock as the man discussed the Last Shadow. He was trembling before, but now he was as stiff as a board. His expression turned to nervousness, even though he was still angry. He could hear his frantic heartbeat in his ears. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. In essence, when he was cursed by the Last Shadow, he was given the energy of the entire universe, according to this man. That would mean Athus was too, and...
The Whisper.
The Entity was still as well, its eye widened and its fists fully clenched. They could both almost feel the demand of energy that had spread in the boy's mind during the End again. Even a glance at the Last Shadow corrupts and twists a soul beyond repair... Call grit his teeth harder. He was essentially being told that he was beyond saving. He couldn't be saved, he couldn't be healed. He was burdening the world. He was nothing.
I need Eyes!
He found it pathetic how tears were forming and even dripping from his eyes, right in front of this monster. The trembling started up again. No. This p**ck was lying. He was something, he meant something. He wasn't nothing. He was fighting the urge to lunge forward and beat the man into the ground. He was too close to doing so. If he had control of his magic, he already would've.
The Whisper wasn't speaking. It wasn't even attempting to speak. It was, however, growling loudly. It looked just as p**sed as Call was, and also looked dangerously close to making an attempt to snap 'Torvald's' neck right here and now. "Don't you dare speak of the kid that way," it snarled, having taken personal offense. "He didn't ask to be one of the Eyes. How can you call his soul twisted, when you haven't even seen it? F**king liar-"
"Enough."
Call had interrupted the Whisper, taking another step forward. He was essentially in front of everyone now, almost as if he was trying to protect them somehow. He was clearly not in his right mind. Without even thinking, he tore and tossed the splint aside, letting his fixed arm dangle limply by his side. He ignored the pain that happened afterwards. He wasn't weak. "Enough with this talk," he spat. "You never said I would agree, but I never said I would let you use any of us. If nothing else... I. Am. Not. Helping. You.
"...But, if you insist on flapping your lips so much, do enlighten us on who you really are, before you won't be able to talk anymore," the boy challenged with a threatening tone, glaring exceedingly sharp, fiery daggers at the man.
The boy hissed at the laugh that followed his outburst. He couldn't stop himself from shaking with rage. His entire body was trembling, which only served to make the throbbing in his broken bones worse. In turn, it continued to fuel his blinding rage. He was seeing more red than he had before the laugh set upon his ears. He wanted to tear this b*stard apart.
When Aerik asked the man what he was, Call found himself wanting to know the same thing. However, 'Torvald' had skipped the question and continued talking, as if they didn't matter. But he wasn't prepared for what was said next.
He wasn't even close to being prepared.
He froze in shock as the man discussed the Last Shadow. He was trembling before, but now he was as stiff as a board. His expression turned to nervousness, even though he was still angry. He could hear his frantic heartbeat in his ears. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. In essence, when he was cursed by the Last Shadow, he was given the energy of the entire universe, according to this man. That would mean Athus was too, and...
The Whisper.
The Entity was still as well, its eye widened and its fists fully clenched. They could both almost feel the demand of energy that had spread in the boy's mind during the End again. Even a glance at the Last Shadow corrupts and twists a soul beyond repair... Call grit his teeth harder. He was essentially being told that he was beyond saving. He couldn't be saved, he couldn't be healed. He was burdening the world. He was nothing.
I need Eyes!
He found it pathetic how tears were forming and even dripping from his eyes, right in front of this monster. The trembling started up again. No. This p**ck was lying. He was something, he meant something. He wasn't nothing. He was fighting the urge to lunge forward and beat the man into the ground. He was too close to doing so. If he had control of his magic, he already would've.
The Whisper wasn't speaking. It wasn't even attempting to speak. It was, however, growling loudly. It looked just as p**sed as Call was, and also looked dangerously close to making an attempt to snap 'Torvald's' neck right here and now. "Don't you dare speak of the kid that way," it snarled, having taken personal offense. "He didn't ask to be one of the Eyes. How can you call his soul twisted, when you haven't even seen it? F**king liar-"
"Enough."
Call had interrupted the Whisper, taking another step forward. He was essentially in front of everyone now, almost as if he was trying to protect them somehow. He was clearly not in his right mind. Without even thinking, he tore and tossed the splint aside, letting his fixed arm dangle limply by his side. He ignored the pain that happened afterwards. He wasn't weak. "Enough with this talk," he spat. "You never said I would agree, but I never said I would let you use any of us. If nothing else... I. Am. Not. Helping. You.
"...But, if you insist on flapping your lips so much, do enlighten us on who you really are, before you won't be able to talk anymore," the boy challenged with a threatening tone, glaring exceedingly sharp, fiery daggers at the man.
The man seemed to delight in everything Call said, as though he was enjoying their situation. "Oh, but I have," he replied to the Whisper, "a twisted up soul, blackened and wretched, something I wouldn't even give to a beggar - yes, I can see it. And he can't, can he not." He seemed amused by this, listening to Call's question.
"Oh, that's quite impossible. I am a god alongside my brothers, Marrath and Pellex, not those pathetic minor gods who speak to you as though you're anything more than game to us. I believe this is the body of the man you'd walk across the world to destroy, so I donned it to bring you to me. The Spirits trapped us in the Rift a long time ago, and now their demise is on the horizon. Arguing among themselves... tut, tut. And I thought they learned."
"You will help me destroy them, whether you believe you will or not. Let me show you." Call felt his feet drag him fowards, and a force push him into a kneeling position, out in front of the others, facing the throne.
The man seemed to delight in everything Call said, as though he was enjoying their situation. "Oh, but I have," he replied to the Whisper, "a twisted up soul, blackened and wretched, something I wouldn't even give to a beggar - yes, I can see it. And he can't, can he not." He seemed amused by this, listening to Call's question.
"Oh, that's quite impossible. I am a god alongside my brothers, Marrath and Pellex, not those pathetic minor gods who speak to you as though you're anything more than game to us. I believe this is the body of the man you'd walk across the world to destroy, so I donned it to bring you to me. The Spirits trapped us in the Rift a long time ago, and now their demise is on the horizon. Arguing among themselves... tut, tut. And I thought they learned."
"You will help me destroy them, whether you believe you will or not. Let me show you." Call felt his feet drag him fowards, and a force push him into a kneeling position, out in front of the others, facing the throne.
Lucine looked up carefully as Torvald began to speak, tuning into his soft and yet unsettling voice. She was quiet as she listened to the exchange between him and Aerik, her amber eyes following from one to the other.
Apparently, Torvald wasn’t Torvald, he was something completely different Something scary, something… nonhuman. She at least thought so, that was the feeling she received from the way he moved and talked. The girl watched him, suspiciously, as his conversation with Aerik continued, though it was cut short by the revealing of what exactly was under the hoods.
The only way Lucine could describe it would be ghastly. It was her ideal of what someone brought back from the grave would look like- but after the initial jolt of fear which overtook her body and caused the petite vampire to take a step back had subsided, she began to feel sad. These were those who had been jolted out of their eternal rest, just to become playthings for whatever sort of being was impersonating Torvald before her.
She hoped she wouldn’t end that way. It almost made her want to put the poor guards out of their misery, though she knew there would probably be many many more where they came from. She was almost too focused on her grief to hear his next words, but she did hear the explosion next to her, and immediately whipped her head to land her yellow eyes on Callum, taking in a sharp breath. No. No no no no no. He was going to get himself killed.
She watched him, with fear in her eyes, as she had to fight down the urge to push towards him, and shut him up, for his own safety. The group would find a way to get out of it, she knew they would, in her heart, and she didn’t want Callum to not be a part of that number.
Lucine was listening to Torvald as he explained, well, she wasn’t sure what he was explaining. The creation of the world? Why they were sent to the past? What his agenda was? All she knew was that it mentioned the Last Shadow, and upon hearing that word, she watched as Callum tensed, and then she herself drew in a sharp breath as she caught Torvald’s words, as though they were something just exchanged in passing-
“A twisted soul.”
She whipped her head back around to face Torvald, something in her amber eyes that hadn’t been there before? Anger? A Flame? Whatever it was, it was very much there, and threatening to take her over.
She listened as the Whisper defended Callum, not bothering to look at it, but she did look at Callum as he shouted Enough, watching him take steps forward. She heard his threats, and it made her stomach sink. As much as she believed in Callum, she recognized an imbalance when she saw one, and she knew that Callum would get his a** handed to him by Torvald.
She turned back to the man on the throne and stepped quietly forward, glaring up at him. “Callum,” she said, her voice colder than normal, but not directed towards Callum, “Stand down.”
She continued to glare at Torvald as he addressed Callum again, calling his soul akin to a rotting apple, something dark and black and horrible, and Lucine knew that was not true. She had seen his soul, been close enough to touch it, that night below the mage lights, when everything had seemed perfect…
She, in that moment, attempted to send Callum a feeling, her fear for him. Through all her emotions, it was difficult to pinpoint the one, so he would most likely feel a jumbled mess, but she tried to strengthen her fear for him.
She watched, unblinking as the god masquerading as Torvald explained who he was- an all powerful god, trapped in a rift by the Spirits, who she assumed he now had a personal vendetta against. Lucine remained quiet, not looking away from the god’s face.
She didn’t look at Callum when she knew he was being forced to the front of the room, forced to kneel before Torvald, but she did feel her stomach drop and clench all at once. She felt she was going to throw up, right there, in the throne room, at the thought of him being controlled that way.
Still glaring at Torvald, the girl tilted her head, and watched him, waiting for her moment to speak.
“Enough of this.” She told the god, she herself stepping forward, “I understand you wish for us to assist you in the destruction of the spirits, correct?” She nodded to herself, glancing quickly over at the Whisper, then to Callum, “However, if our motley group is truly to be inefficent in your destruction, then it calls me to wonder how we are to be expected to take down those who banished you in the first place? It seems to me, at least my semi-mortal opinion, that your logic is flawed.”
Lucine was quiet for a moment, pretending not to look as scared as she felt.
“In addition, I will ask you to kindly refrain from personal attacks against any of the members of my group. While I understand you do not see yourself as the kindest of deities, if you want cooperation and to make this as easy as possible for yourself, I recommend you unleash Callum here from whatever sort of spell you have binded him within, and allow those of us which are here some elbow room from your army of Undeads. That is all.”
She knew she looked like an idiot. She knew she sounded like one as well, and she knew by the fact she was still trying to connect with Callum’s soul that he would know how nervous she really was. She knew negotiations would not truly work. But she needed to try.
For the sake of her hopeless optimism, she had to try.
Lucine looked up carefully as Torvald began to speak, tuning into his soft and yet unsettling voice. She was quiet as she listened to the exchange between him and Aerik, her amber eyes following from one to the other.
Apparently, Torvald wasn’t Torvald, he was something completely different Something scary, something… nonhuman. She at least thought so, that was the feeling she received from the way he moved and talked. The girl watched him, suspiciously, as his conversation with Aerik continued, though it was cut short by the revealing of what exactly was under the hoods.
The only way Lucine could describe it would be ghastly. It was her ideal of what someone brought back from the grave would look like- but after the initial jolt of fear which overtook her body and caused the petite vampire to take a step back had subsided, she began to feel sad. These were those who had been jolted out of their eternal rest, just to become playthings for whatever sort of being was impersonating Torvald before her.
She hoped she wouldn’t end that way. It almost made her want to put the poor guards out of their misery, though she knew there would probably be many many more where they came from. She was almost too focused on her grief to hear his next words, but she did hear the explosion next to her, and immediately whipped her head to land her yellow eyes on Callum, taking in a sharp breath. No. No no no no no. He was going to get himself killed.
She watched him, with fear in her eyes, as she had to fight down the urge to push towards him, and shut him up, for his own safety. The group would find a way to get out of it, she knew they would, in her heart, and she didn’t want Callum to not be a part of that number.
Lucine was listening to Torvald as he explained, well, she wasn’t sure what he was explaining. The creation of the world? Why they were sent to the past? What his agenda was? All she knew was that it mentioned the Last Shadow, and upon hearing that word, she watched as Callum tensed, and then she herself drew in a sharp breath as she caught Torvald’s words, as though they were something just exchanged in passing-
“A twisted soul.”
She whipped her head back around to face Torvald, something in her amber eyes that hadn’t been there before? Anger? A Flame? Whatever it was, it was very much there, and threatening to take her over.
She listened as the Whisper defended Callum, not bothering to look at it, but she did look at Callum as he shouted Enough, watching him take steps forward. She heard his threats, and it made her stomach sink. As much as she believed in Callum, she recognized an imbalance when she saw one, and she knew that Callum would get his a** handed to him by Torvald.
She turned back to the man on the throne and stepped quietly forward, glaring up at him. “Callum,” she said, her voice colder than normal, but not directed towards Callum, “Stand down.”
She continued to glare at Torvald as he addressed Callum again, calling his soul akin to a rotting apple, something dark and black and horrible, and Lucine knew that was not true. She had seen his soul, been close enough to touch it, that night below the mage lights, when everything had seemed perfect…
She, in that moment, attempted to send Callum a feeling, her fear for him. Through all her emotions, it was difficult to pinpoint the one, so he would most likely feel a jumbled mess, but she tried to strengthen her fear for him.
She watched, unblinking as the god masquerading as Torvald explained who he was- an all powerful god, trapped in a rift by the Spirits, who she assumed he now had a personal vendetta against. Lucine remained quiet, not looking away from the god’s face.
She didn’t look at Callum when she knew he was being forced to the front of the room, forced to kneel before Torvald, but she did feel her stomach drop and clench all at once. She felt she was going to throw up, right there, in the throne room, at the thought of him being controlled that way.
Still glaring at Torvald, the girl tilted her head, and watched him, waiting for her moment to speak.
“Enough of this.” She told the god, she herself stepping forward, “I understand you wish for us to assist you in the destruction of the spirits, correct?” She nodded to herself, glancing quickly over at the Whisper, then to Callum, “However, if our motley group is truly to be inefficent in your destruction, then it calls me to wonder how we are to be expected to take down those who banished you in the first place? It seems to me, at least my semi-mortal opinion, that your logic is flawed.”
Lucine was quiet for a moment, pretending not to look as scared as she felt.
“In addition, I will ask you to kindly refrain from personal attacks against any of the members of my group. While I understand you do not see yourself as the kindest of deities, if you want cooperation and to make this as easy as possible for yourself, I recommend you unleash Callum here from whatever sort of spell you have binded him within, and allow those of us which are here some elbow room from your army of Undeads. That is all.”
She knew she looked like an idiot. She knew she sounded like one as well, and she knew by the fact she was still trying to connect with Callum’s soul that he would know how nervous she really was. She knew negotiations would not truly work. But she needed to try.
For the sake of her hopeless optimism, she had to try.
This is pointless...
That thought had been pushing at the back of Call's mind the entire time he had been in the Throne Room, only to fail. He was too angry to let any rational thoughts reach his mind. The fact that his words didn't seem to be displeasing the man on the throne in any way only pushed him further. He wasn't sure if 'Torvald' was trying to goad him into seething even more or not.
A few more tears were forming in the angry boy's eyes as the man offered a reply to the Whisper, shaking his head in disbelief. Those were the words spoken to him by both his father and brother, again and again, always bringing him down. His breathing quickened and his head started hurting as he tried to process the poisonous words. Twisted-up, blackened, WRETCHED...
Such words made him wish he could see his own soul for himself. He hadn't been aware of it rising with the Mage Lights, back when he had been placed in a Magic Coma. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have taken 'Torvald's' words to heart. But because he had no knowledge or even a clear image in his mind, they stung.
He heard a loud growl come from the Whisper once more, and it twitched violently, as if it was barely winning in its struggle against itself. "You have NO right to speak about him that way," it hissed. "You don't know the kid. Not like we do. Not like I do."
Call shut his eyes, suddenly feeling an onslaught of emotions hit him just after Lucine told him to stand down. He knew he should; he knew he very well should. He had no chance against someone who seemed to be a God. He still wouldn't kneel before this monster. If he were to submit, he would submit everything, and that wasn't something he wanted. He would submit his soul, his will, his freedom... and very likely, the rest of his friends being forced to listen to this drivel.
The mixture of emotions managed to distract and confuse him. Though, there was one that stood out among the rest; fear. Fear in the depths of his 'blackened' soul. It almost hurt... actually, it did hurt. Everything else was hurting as well. As he received an answer to his question - though not a satisfying one, and certainly one that didn't make sense - he looked away from the God on the throne, struggling to hold his tears back. His trembling increased. Even with the confusing, muddled emotions swirling within his soul from Lucine, the anger increased even further. As if it wasn't high enough...
You will help me destroy them, whether you believe you will or not.
His stinging, glowing eyes widened when his feet suddenly dragged him forward against his will. It felt foreign, like something that shouldn't be happening to him, but it was. He felt a growl beginning to leave him, only to be interrupted when an unknown force shoved him closer to the ground, forcing him into a kneeling position right in front of the throne where the God sat.
He strained to bring himself back up as soon as he was bound within the stance he had been forced to assume. No. NO. He couldn't kneel before this 'king'. But despite that thought, here he was, kneeling, though against his will. His muscles ached as he refused to allow whatever spell had been placed on him to win completely. He growled and moaned in frustration.
He heard Lucine speak, but couldn't muster the strength to look at her. He almost smiled at her bravery and logic. That's my girl. He tried to send some form of reassurance to her soul, steadily battling back his anger. However, he was the only one who could feel her true nervousness, and in turn, that made him feel nervous. The boy gulped. His breaths were sharp. Lucine's words echoed in his mind, preventing him from speaking another word at that moment.
Callum. Stand down.
This is pointless...
That thought had been pushing at the back of Call's mind the entire time he had been in the Throne Room, only to fail. He was too angry to let any rational thoughts reach his mind. The fact that his words didn't seem to be displeasing the man on the throne in any way only pushed him further. He wasn't sure if 'Torvald' was trying to goad him into seething even more or not.
A few more tears were forming in the angry boy's eyes as the man offered a reply to the Whisper, shaking his head in disbelief. Those were the words spoken to him by both his father and brother, again and again, always bringing him down. His breathing quickened and his head started hurting as he tried to process the poisonous words. Twisted-up, blackened, WRETCHED...
Such words made him wish he could see his own soul for himself. He hadn't been aware of it rising with the Mage Lights, back when he had been placed in a Magic Coma. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have taken 'Torvald's' words to heart. But because he had no knowledge or even a clear image in his mind, they stung.
He heard a loud growl come from the Whisper once more, and it twitched violently, as if it was barely winning in its struggle against itself. "You have NO right to speak about him that way," it hissed. "You don't know the kid. Not like we do. Not like I do."
Call shut his eyes, suddenly feeling an onslaught of emotions hit him just after Lucine told him to stand down. He knew he should; he knew he very well should. He had no chance against someone who seemed to be a God. He still wouldn't kneel before this monster. If he were to submit, he would submit everything, and that wasn't something he wanted. He would submit his soul, his will, his freedom... and very likely, the rest of his friends being forced to listen to this drivel.
The mixture of emotions managed to distract and confuse him. Though, there was one that stood out among the rest; fear. Fear in the depths of his 'blackened' soul. It almost hurt... actually, it did hurt. Everything else was hurting as well. As he received an answer to his question - though not a satisfying one, and certainly one that didn't make sense - he looked away from the God on the throne, struggling to hold his tears back. His trembling increased. Even with the confusing, muddled emotions swirling within his soul from Lucine, the anger increased even further. As if it wasn't high enough...
You will help me destroy them, whether you believe you will or not.
His stinging, glowing eyes widened when his feet suddenly dragged him forward against his will. It felt foreign, like something that shouldn't be happening to him, but it was. He felt a growl beginning to leave him, only to be interrupted when an unknown force shoved him closer to the ground, forcing him into a kneeling position right in front of the throne where the God sat.
He strained to bring himself back up as soon as he was bound within the stance he had been forced to assume. No. NO. He couldn't kneel before this 'king'. But despite that thought, here he was, kneeling, though against his will. His muscles ached as he refused to allow whatever spell had been placed on him to win completely. He growled and moaned in frustration.
He heard Lucine speak, but couldn't muster the strength to look at her. He almost smiled at her bravery and logic. That's my girl. He tried to send some form of reassurance to her soul, steadily battling back his anger. However, he was the only one who could feel her true nervousness, and in turn, that made him feel nervous. The boy gulped. His breaths were sharp. Lucine's words echoed in his mind, preventing him from speaking another word at that moment.
Callum. Stand down.
Torvald almost seemed to consider their words for a moment, watching them with that slight, mocking smile, leaning on one of the throne's arms, resting his chin on his hand. The resemblance to Torvald was uncanny: the hatred he incited in them, the cruel expression, his dismissal of them. He watched Lucine as though she was putting on an interesting show.
"Oh dear, Enigma, you don't learn, do you? Is that what you like to call yourself, now? An aspect of the Last Shadow, burned out of the boy by your enlistment as Eyes. Tut, tut. Like I said, my brothers and i shielded the world from the Last Shadow during the age of Chaos. You're merely a parasite, a tick where you don't belong." He looked idly between the two.
"So defiant. People truly have lost all respect for the Gods. The future is what happened without us." He had gotten up, moving down the steps of the throne to stand over Callum. "Free will only earned you a dead world..."
Aerik snarled and stepped forward. "The Spirits kept the world safe for centuries. If Marrath hadn't torn through the Rift, there never would have been a weakness. I've read about the Age of Chaos," she spoke to the others, her eyes still on Torvald. "There were two parts. One when the gods were free, and one when the Spirits fought. People were fodder to them. They'd sacrifice people for the favour of the Gods. Cities couldn't exist. If the Gods were displeased, they could level and destroy a civilisation in a day, and they did."
Torvald started to laugh again. "Look at what happened to this place without us. So boring, so... tedious. You're going to help me fix that. We will shatter this timeline, and take it back to the time before. I know where your defiance comes from. You believe yourselves invulnerable. It never truly seems a reality that heroes can die, does it?"
There was a flash of silver, and a splash of red. The blade protruded from Call's back, plunged straight through his heart. Torvald held him up by it, looking into his eyes as the life died inside them. "I'm here to change that."
Torvald almost seemed to consider their words for a moment, watching them with that slight, mocking smile, leaning on one of the throne's arms, resting his chin on his hand. The resemblance to Torvald was uncanny: the hatred he incited in them, the cruel expression, his dismissal of them. He watched Lucine as though she was putting on an interesting show.
"Oh dear, Enigma, you don't learn, do you? Is that what you like to call yourself, now? An aspect of the Last Shadow, burned out of the boy by your enlistment as Eyes. Tut, tut. Like I said, my brothers and i shielded the world from the Last Shadow during the age of Chaos. You're merely a parasite, a tick where you don't belong." He looked idly between the two.
"So defiant. People truly have lost all respect for the Gods. The future is what happened without us." He had gotten up, moving down the steps of the throne to stand over Callum. "Free will only earned you a dead world..."
Aerik snarled and stepped forward. "The Spirits kept the world safe for centuries. If Marrath hadn't torn through the Rift, there never would have been a weakness. I've read about the Age of Chaos," she spoke to the others, her eyes still on Torvald. "There were two parts. One when the gods were free, and one when the Spirits fought. People were fodder to them. They'd sacrifice people for the favour of the Gods. Cities couldn't exist. If the Gods were displeased, they could level and destroy a civilisation in a day, and they did."
Torvald started to laugh again. "Look at what happened to this place without us. So boring, so... tedious. You're going to help me fix that. We will shatter this timeline, and take it back to the time before. I know where your defiance comes from. You believe yourselves invulnerable. It never truly seems a reality that heroes can die, does it?"
There was a flash of silver, and a splash of red. The blade protruded from Call's back, plunged straight through his heart. Torvald held him up by it, looking into his eyes as the life died inside them. "I'm here to change that."
The Whisper tensed further, only glancing at Lucine for a split second before returning its burning gaze towards 'Torvald'. It didn't feel as though it would be relaxing anytime soon. With Call being forced to kneel in front of someone who didn't deserve the title of 'King', there was no room to relax. It was sure that every prisoner here knew that, especially the ones who spoke out in defiance.
It frowned deeply as it was mocked, Lucine being ignored verbally, but not fully. It despised how 'Torvald' looked at her like she was here for entertainment, like the rest of them. It almost felt the urge to stand closer to her, as Call wasn't able to do so. He probably would've if he wasn't put under the kneeling spell. It too couldn’t move because of that, and it cursed itself for not being able to do much about this besides spit venomous words back at the God.
It hissed under its breath at the man's words, but it noticeably winced at the same time. Even though Athus had called it a poisonous soul, at least the reason was, in all honesty, something it agreed with. Athus had just wanted to protect the boy, as did the Whisper.
'Torvald' here didn't seem to want that.
A parasite. A tick where you don't belong.
It growled as he continued to speak, finally standing up and making his way down from the throne. The urge to lunge forward only intensified and became harder to fight when he stopped in front of Call, looming over the kneeling boy. It could feel the boy's inner panic, realizing that his anger was quickly fading. Now that he was in a position where he couldn't get away from 'Torvald', where he couldn't escape whatever the man wanted to do to him, reality turned his anger into fear. More than likely, it was probably also the messages being sent from Lucine's soul, expressing her inner nervousness and fear for her boyfriend.
Get away from him, you slime, it thought inwardly, gritting its sharp teeth. It would've actually spoken those words if the Weredog with them hadn't spoken up. It listened to her as she spoke of the Spirits and the time when the Gods reigned supreme, nodding tensely. Strangely enough, it knew what she was talking about. It despised the age in which Gods would level cities just because they were disappointed that they didn't get any presents. It made sense that they were eventually locked in the Rift.
However, 'Torvald's' laughter indicated that he didn't heed those words, just like every other word spat out at him by some of his prisoners. That laughter would've normally egged it on further, but it was distracted by something... dread. The feeling that something was about to happen, and it wouldn't be able to prevent it. It trembled. The eye slowly began to glow brighter.
It couldn't let anything happen to the kid. It couldn't. It knew its purpose was supposed to be to make his life hell, but it found that it didn't want to do that. It wanted to protect him from such things, especially after everything he had been through. For most of his life, the only person who ever loved him was his sister, and when she died, he had no one for quite some time.
Raven came along and provided him with company, and the Night Wolf loved him, as he loved her... and then Lucine arrived in his life. It knew how the boy saw her; the light in his life, the fire to keep him going after years of torment. Sure, he didn't suffer nearly as long as Raph did - Gods, it hurt the Whisper just to think about the vampire dragon's torment - but he still hadn't had such a light until Lucine.
To add to that happiness, Thalia had been given life once more, this time as a Wereraptor. It remembered when Call had reunited with Lucine, Thalia and Raven. It couldn't say it had ever seen him more happy than when he was with those he treasured, and now he never would get that chance again-
All of a sudden, its breathing hitched.
It never truly seems a reality that heroes can die, does it?
The Whisper saw what was about to happen before it happened, the shock hitting its mind and leaving no time for it to process said shock. The creature desperately fought its paralysis and managed to lurch forward.
"CALL!!!"
And then there was red.
Lucine...
The boy fully managed to send his girlfriend that very thought as the girl's words were pushed aside by 'Torvald', as the Whisper was being taunted and belittled by the God, and as the boy himself wasn't released from the spell he had been trapped in. Through the mixture of emotions he was currently feeling, he managed to unintentionally send her his inner panic. His anger was disappearing, being replaced by dread. He should've just listened to the half-vampire and stood down when he could.
He shook when he felt 'Torvald's' presence grow nearer with every second, until the man was finally looming over him, away from the throne. He didn't even glance up at him, keeping his gaze planted firmly on the floor while still struggling to free himself, albeit not as hard as before. He could hear the Whisper's thought towards 'Torvald', and it only made his heart beat a little faster.
Get away from him, you slime.
He tried listening to Aerik's voice. He tried. But his mind was a mess. A hurricane of emotions, once again, was overcoming him... not just the physical pain. This hurricane lacked anger. Dread was the one that stood out above them all, both his own dread and the dread of his beloved Lucine. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, his breathing quickening. His heart could've leapt out of his chest at that point. He was shaking madly, whimpering through his bit lip. He began trying even harder to break out of his stance, to run to Lucine, but he could barely move a muscle, much less his legs.
'Torvald's' laughter unnerved him, causing his now-open eyes to widen. He was still determined not to help him. He was determined not to let any of his group help him... even if they wanted to. He couldn't dream of a reason why any of them would want to. This 'man' was a monster, just from the words coming out of his mouth. He didn't see why the God felt as if any of them would be able to help him. If they couldn't even complete the ultimately fruitless mission from the Night Spirit, then how the hell were they supposed to help any higher being?
All of a sudden, the boy froze.
It never truly seems a reality that heroes can die, does it?
"CALL!!!"
The Whisper's cry reached him too late.
Callum couldn't breathe.
He didn't feel the shocking pain until a split second after the blade slid through his chest and protruded from his back. It was something he couldn't ever properly describe. Red filled his vision, and red spurted from his punctured body. His feet were off the ground. Everything was blurry. His heart had been pierced. He was in so much pain.
He didn't scream. He couldn't scream. He wanted to scream.
The boy croaked hoarsely, unable to take a single breath. Even though he couldn't scream in agony, his mind and soul were screaming; the screams from the depths of his soul easily reached Lucine in an unfortunate way. They were screaming desperately, painfully and fearfully. His blood coated the blade of silver, and the sickeningly sweet scent of it began to permeate.
All he could feel was fear. Pure, raw fear. The last couple times he was this close to Death, he had managed to get away. He couldn't remember how exactly he survived his throat being slit, but it was thanks to the Night Spirit that his life was spared after Eirach had essentially beaten him to death. The fear came from the fact that he knew, deep within, that nothing was sure to save him.
He couldn't look upon any of his friends. He couldn't look upon his wolf, or his sister, or his dying partner... or his love. His shimmering eyes were forced to look upon 'Torvald's' as the man opted to watch the last of the life previously within them fade. He could almost feel his eyes beginning to glaze over as tears slid down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He couldn't go. He didn't want to. He couldn't abandon Lucine. He promised, he F**KING PROMISED!
His dying eyes were able to widen slightly, in tandem with his body spasming briefly. He no longer had control over it. Those limbs were no longer his. Reality grabbed hold of him permanently. He was dying, and he was dying quickly. Soon, he would take his place in the Shadows, but... it wasn't supposed to be his time yet. He was supposed to live longer... he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with Lucine, why, why!? Why was fate so CRUEL!??
No, NO NO NO! NO!!
The Mark on his wrist began to burn intensely, glowing almost too brightly. The limb was burning, feeling as though it was on fire, twitching and spasming as it did. He thought of Athus, trying desperately to connect his soul to the man he came to see as a father, focusing on the burning sensation for as long as he could. The tears fell faster, but not a single sob could be heard.
Everything was getting brighter.
Not darker, brighter... why was it brighter?
The pain which plagued him was going away. True numbness took hold of him instead. It felt... comfortable. Pleasant, almost. Rational thoughts were gone now. His mind was dumbed down, and it was almost completely gone. He felt heavy; everything felt heavy. Everything felt so fake, so nightmarish. This couldn't be real... this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.
But it was. It was happening.
He would've died eventually, but not like this.
Not like this...
The Mark continued to burn as his delusional mind blended everything together in a messy palette of despair. His orange eye faded to grey before both eyes faded into a lifeless silver. His entire body went limp, dangling lifelessly from the God's sword.
One more tear slid down his cold face as he sent Athus one last message.
Dad......
Callum Muraco was finally dead.
There was so much blood.
The Whisper was too late. The shocking spurt of red stopped it right in its tracks. However, that wasn't the only thing preventing it from moving.
Along with red, there was black.
Ink-like blood sprung from its body, as if that same sword had been buried in its chest as well. The pain that followed was truly indescribable. It couldn't move. It could barely take its eye off of the child's body hanging off the floor, held by the silver blade... no. Held by a monster.
It never thought this day would actually come. Time after time, both of them would escape the clutches of Death, even if just barely. They survived the end of the world, they survived the Clans, and they survived the deadly fire that took more lives than deserved. But they couldn't survive this, because now, both of them were out of time.
The creature could no longer breathe as it swayed and fell backwards, nearly slamming into Raphael. The glow in its single eye was fading, dulling. Teardrops wetted its face as its blood pooled below it. It felt... warm. Very warm. It started to see black, unlike the dying boy, who was seeing white instead. It supposed it was always going to be damned to either the Shadows or hell itself, no matter the decisions it made.
It didn't want to die. It wanted to see so many other things, experience so many new things. It wanted to go back to the dour swamp to join Janus, just as it resolved to do. It was too confused, what the hell was going on? What was that memory it was shown by Callidora, then? How could it happen... if the boy was dead...!?
"...Buddy..." it croaked, coughing violently and dryly. It was addressing Raph, looking up at the vampire dragon the best it could. It wasn't sure what it wanted to say to him. It wasn't sure what it could say to him. It only forced a shaky, pained grin onto its clammy face.
The creature's body was beginning to break down into droplets of the same ink-like substance covering half of its face. The droplets were rising into the air, akin to dust being picked up by the wind. It was saddened further by the boy's immense panic. He was just a kid... he didn't deserve to die. It wished it was the only person dying. The boy was too young to die, especially at the hands of a benevolent God. It felt an uncharacteristic sob escape it, albeit quiet.
It suddenly mustered the strength to look at Felicity, noticing in the process that half of its body now consisted of the ink-like droplets. It was struggling to keep its eye open.
"Feli..." the Enigma croaked, trying to say her full name, yet failing. It still had something to say.
"Your wife... s-she told me... t-to... tell y-you..."
Go and put a foot in your mouth.
"...S-She... loves you... very... much."
The Whisper kept looking at a very blurry Felicity before finally closing its dull eye. Its body then completely decomposed into the floating ink, only for practically every drop of the ink to vanish from sight, as if they were never there...
The Whisper, disciple of the Last Shadow, was no more.
This couldn't be happening.
Thalia was horrified, HORRIFIED, as she watched the blade sink into her brother's chest, blood spraying from the fatal wound. She couldn't breathe, seeing his body dangling above the ground. The scent of his blood reached her, and it made her slowly begin to forget her previous principles, whatever they had been.
Her purpose was to protect him. That was what she always believed. With Raph in the picture, she had another purpose; to live. To live for him, and to live for the boy she had raised for most of his life. She wasn't supposed to let her dear brother die. He had come so close on multiple occasions. So close.
But now, it was a reality.
A SICK reality.
The Raptor was crying, she was crying and she couldn't stop herself. Tears freely leaked from her blood-red eyes. She felt herself transform back into her humanoid form as she did, choking due to holding back sobs of anguish. She barely noticed the Whisper dying near her, but she didn't even have to look back at it to know that.
She was on her knees, in human form, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from Callum. She couldn't even bear to look at anyone... especially at Lucine. Oh Gods... Lucine...
Your brother is dead.
You failed him.
YOU. FAILED.
The woman didn't even look back as Raven turned into a monster.
The wolf had growled raggedly, and all of a sudden, loud snaps were ringing out in the air, blending with the infuriated whines and howls. Her fur darkened completely, becoming wilder and more untamed, the white markings changing to a dark grey color instead. Her eyes lacked pupils or scleras, resembling how the Whisper's single eye looked; glowing the same color as a raging fire. One of her wings suddenly snapped and looked deformed... until the feathers fell off of them. One by one, until they were all gone. Instead, it was replaced with webbing and a sharp talon; a wyvern's wing. Her teeth grew sharper; two canines in particular jutted out of her upper gums. Another tail joined the one she already had, and whiskers flowed from each side of her face.
The Forbidden Form rose.
The beast who used to be Raven let out a monstrous roar before barreling towards 'Torvald' in a blind rage, her eyes glowing very fiercely. Once she began sprinting like she had nothing to lose, so did Thalia. Even though she wasn't in her Raptor form anymore, she was sick and angry. No, she was MORE than that. She was filled with absolute hatred, and it was all because a God was upset because he had his playthings taken away from him.
You're going to pay for this!!!
Thalia brought out her curved dagger, screamed, and ran towards the God with nothing but a thirst for his spilled blood in her eyes.
The Whisper tensed further, only glancing at Lucine for a split second before returning its burning gaze towards 'Torvald'. It didn't feel as though it would be relaxing anytime soon. With Call being forced to kneel in front of someone who didn't deserve the title of 'King', there was no room to relax. It was sure that every prisoner here knew that, especially the ones who spoke out in defiance.
It frowned deeply as it was mocked, Lucine being ignored verbally, but not fully. It despised how 'Torvald' looked at her like she was here for entertainment, like the rest of them. It almost felt the urge to stand closer to her, as Call wasn't able to do so. He probably would've if he wasn't put under the kneeling spell. It too couldn’t move because of that, and it cursed itself for not being able to do much about this besides spit venomous words back at the God.
It hissed under its breath at the man's words, but it noticeably winced at the same time. Even though Athus had called it a poisonous soul, at least the reason was, in all honesty, something it agreed with. Athus had just wanted to protect the boy, as did the Whisper.
'Torvald' here didn't seem to want that.
A parasite. A tick where you don't belong.
It growled as he continued to speak, finally standing up and making his way down from the throne. The urge to lunge forward only intensified and became harder to fight when he stopped in front of Call, looming over the kneeling boy. It could feel the boy's inner panic, realizing that his anger was quickly fading. Now that he was in a position where he couldn't get away from 'Torvald', where he couldn't escape whatever the man wanted to do to him, reality turned his anger into fear. More than likely, it was probably also the messages being sent from Lucine's soul, expressing her inner nervousness and fear for her boyfriend.
Get away from him, you slime, it thought inwardly, gritting its sharp teeth. It would've actually spoken those words if the Weredog with them hadn't spoken up. It listened to her as she spoke of the Spirits and the time when the Gods reigned supreme, nodding tensely. Strangely enough, it knew what she was talking about. It despised the age in which Gods would level cities just because they were disappointed that they didn't get any presents. It made sense that they were eventually locked in the Rift.
However, 'Torvald's' laughter indicated that he didn't heed those words, just like every other word spat out at him by some of his prisoners. That laughter would've normally egged it on further, but it was distracted by something... dread. The feeling that something was about to happen, and it wouldn't be able to prevent it. It trembled. The eye slowly began to glow brighter.
It couldn't let anything happen to the kid. It couldn't. It knew its purpose was supposed to be to make his life hell, but it found that it didn't want to do that. It wanted to protect him from such things, especially after everything he had been through. For most of his life, the only person who ever loved him was his sister, and when she died, he had no one for quite some time.
Raven came along and provided him with company, and the Night Wolf loved him, as he loved her... and then Lucine arrived in his life. It knew how the boy saw her; the light in his life, the fire to keep him going after years of torment. Sure, he didn't suffer nearly as long as Raph did - Gods, it hurt the Whisper just to think about the vampire dragon's torment - but he still hadn't had such a light until Lucine.
To add to that happiness, Thalia had been given life once more, this time as a Wereraptor. It remembered when Call had reunited with Lucine, Thalia and Raven. It couldn't say it had ever seen him more happy than when he was with those he treasured, and now he never would get that chance again-
All of a sudden, its breathing hitched.
It never truly seems a reality that heroes can die, does it?
The Whisper saw what was about to happen before it happened, the shock hitting its mind and leaving no time for it to process said shock. The creature desperately fought its paralysis and managed to lurch forward.
"CALL!!!"
And then there was red.
Lucine...
The boy fully managed to send his girlfriend that very thought as the girl's words were pushed aside by 'Torvald', as the Whisper was being taunted and belittled by the God, and as the boy himself wasn't released from the spell he had been trapped in. Through the mixture of emotions he was currently feeling, he managed to unintentionally send her his inner panic. His anger was disappearing, being replaced by dread. He should've just listened to the half-vampire and stood down when he could.
He shook when he felt 'Torvald's' presence grow nearer with every second, until the man was finally looming over him, away from the throne. He didn't even glance up at him, keeping his gaze planted firmly on the floor while still struggling to free himself, albeit not as hard as before. He could hear the Whisper's thought towards 'Torvald', and it only made his heart beat a little faster.
Get away from him, you slime.
He tried listening to Aerik's voice. He tried. But his mind was a mess. A hurricane of emotions, once again, was overcoming him... not just the physical pain. This hurricane lacked anger. Dread was the one that stood out above them all, both his own dread and the dread of his beloved Lucine. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, his breathing quickening. His heart could've leapt out of his chest at that point. He was shaking madly, whimpering through his bit lip. He began trying even harder to break out of his stance, to run to Lucine, but he could barely move a muscle, much less his legs.
'Torvald's' laughter unnerved him, causing his now-open eyes to widen. He was still determined not to help him. He was determined not to let any of his group help him... even if they wanted to. He couldn't dream of a reason why any of them would want to. This 'man' was a monster, just from the words coming out of his mouth. He didn't see why the God felt as if any of them would be able to help him. If they couldn't even complete the ultimately fruitless mission from the Night Spirit, then how the hell were they supposed to help any higher being?
All of a sudden, the boy froze.
It never truly seems a reality that heroes can die, does it?
"CALL!!!"
The Whisper's cry reached him too late.
Callum couldn't breathe.
He didn't feel the shocking pain until a split second after the blade slid through his chest and protruded from his back. It was something he couldn't ever properly describe. Red filled his vision, and red spurted from his punctured body. His feet were off the ground. Everything was blurry. His heart had been pierced. He was in so much pain.
He didn't scream. He couldn't scream. He wanted to scream.
The boy croaked hoarsely, unable to take a single breath. Even though he couldn't scream in agony, his mind and soul were screaming; the screams from the depths of his soul easily reached Lucine in an unfortunate way. They were screaming desperately, painfully and fearfully. His blood coated the blade of silver, and the sickeningly sweet scent of it began to permeate.
All he could feel was fear. Pure, raw fear. The last couple times he was this close to Death, he had managed to get away. He couldn't remember how exactly he survived his throat being slit, but it was thanks to the Night Spirit that his life was spared after Eirach had essentially beaten him to death. The fear came from the fact that he knew, deep within, that nothing was sure to save him.
He couldn't look upon any of his friends. He couldn't look upon his wolf, or his sister, or his dying partner... or his love. His shimmering eyes were forced to look upon 'Torvald's' as the man opted to watch the last of the life previously within them fade. He could almost feel his eyes beginning to glaze over as tears slid down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He couldn't go. He didn't want to. He couldn't abandon Lucine. He promised, he F**KING PROMISED!
His dying eyes were able to widen slightly, in tandem with his body spasming briefly. He no longer had control over it. Those limbs were no longer his. Reality grabbed hold of him permanently. He was dying, and he was dying quickly. Soon, he would take his place in the Shadows, but... it wasn't supposed to be his time yet. He was supposed to live longer... he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with Lucine, why, why!? Why was fate so CRUEL!??
No, NO NO NO! NO!!
The Mark on his wrist began to burn intensely, glowing almost too brightly. The limb was burning, feeling as though it was on fire, twitching and spasming as it did. He thought of Athus, trying desperately to connect his soul to the man he came to see as a father, focusing on the burning sensation for as long as he could. The tears fell faster, but not a single sob could be heard.
Everything was getting brighter.
Not darker, brighter... why was it brighter?
The pain which plagued him was going away. True numbness took hold of him instead. It felt... comfortable. Pleasant, almost. Rational thoughts were gone now. His mind was dumbed down, and it was almost completely gone. He felt heavy; everything felt heavy. Everything felt so fake, so nightmarish. This couldn't be real... this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.
But it was. It was happening.
He would've died eventually, but not like this.
Not like this...
The Mark continued to burn as his delusional mind blended everything together in a messy palette of despair. His orange eye faded to grey before both eyes faded into a lifeless silver. His entire body went limp, dangling lifelessly from the God's sword.
One more tear slid down his cold face as he sent Athus one last message.
Dad......
Callum Muraco was finally dead.
There was so much blood.
The Whisper was too late. The shocking spurt of red stopped it right in its tracks. However, that wasn't the only thing preventing it from moving.
Along with red, there was black.
Ink-like blood sprung from its body, as if that same sword had been buried in its chest as well. The pain that followed was truly indescribable. It couldn't move. It could barely take its eye off of the child's body hanging off the floor, held by the silver blade... no. Held by a monster.
It never thought this day would actually come. Time after time, both of them would escape the clutches of Death, even if just barely. They survived the end of the world, they survived the Clans, and they survived the deadly fire that took more lives than deserved. But they couldn't survive this, because now, both of them were out of time.
The creature could no longer breathe as it swayed and fell backwards, nearly slamming into Raphael. The glow in its single eye was fading, dulling. Teardrops wetted its face as its blood pooled below it. It felt... warm. Very warm. It started to see black, unlike the dying boy, who was seeing white instead. It supposed it was always going to be damned to either the Shadows or hell itself, no matter the decisions it made.
It didn't want to die. It wanted to see so many other things, experience so many new things. It wanted to go back to the dour swamp to join Janus, just as it resolved to do. It was too confused, what the hell was going on? What was that memory it was shown by Callidora, then? How could it happen... if the boy was dead...!?
"...Buddy..." it croaked, coughing violently and dryly. It was addressing Raph, looking up at the vampire dragon the best it could. It wasn't sure what it wanted to say to him. It wasn't sure what it could say to him. It only forced a shaky, pained grin onto its clammy face.
The creature's body was beginning to break down into droplets of the same ink-like substance covering half of its face. The droplets were rising into the air, akin to dust being picked up by the wind. It was saddened further by the boy's immense panic. He was just a kid... he didn't deserve to die. It wished it was the only person dying. The boy was too young to die, especially at the hands of a benevolent God. It felt an uncharacteristic sob escape it, albeit quiet.
It suddenly mustered the strength to look at Felicity, noticing in the process that half of its body now consisted of the ink-like droplets. It was struggling to keep its eye open.
"Feli..." the Enigma croaked, trying to say her full name, yet failing. It still had something to say.
"Your wife... s-she told me... t-to... tell y-you..."
Go and put a foot in your mouth.
"...S-She... loves you... very... much."
The Whisper kept looking at a very blurry Felicity before finally closing its dull eye. Its body then completely decomposed into the floating ink, only for practically every drop of the ink to vanish from sight, as if they were never there...
The Whisper, disciple of the Last Shadow, was no more.
This couldn't be happening.
Thalia was horrified, HORRIFIED, as she watched the blade sink into her brother's chest, blood spraying from the fatal wound. She couldn't breathe, seeing his body dangling above the ground. The scent of his blood reached her, and it made her slowly begin to forget her previous principles, whatever they had been.
Her purpose was to protect him. That was what she always believed. With Raph in the picture, she had another purpose; to live. To live for him, and to live for the boy she had raised for most of his life. She wasn't supposed to let her dear brother die. He had come so close on multiple occasions. So close.
But now, it was a reality.
A SICK reality.
The Raptor was crying, she was crying and she couldn't stop herself. Tears freely leaked from her blood-red eyes. She felt herself transform back into her humanoid form as she did, choking due to holding back sobs of anguish. She barely noticed the Whisper dying near her, but she didn't even have to look back at it to know that.
She was on her knees, in human form, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from Callum. She couldn't even bear to look at anyone... especially at Lucine. Oh Gods... Lucine...
Your brother is dead.
You failed him.
YOU. FAILED.
The woman didn't even look back as Raven turned into a monster.
The wolf had growled raggedly, and all of a sudden, loud snaps were ringing out in the air, blending with the infuriated whines and howls. Her fur darkened completely, becoming wilder and more untamed, the white markings changing to a dark grey color instead. Her eyes lacked pupils or scleras, resembling how the Whisper's single eye looked; glowing the same color as a raging fire. One of her wings suddenly snapped and looked deformed... until the feathers fell off of them. One by one, until they were all gone. Instead, it was replaced with webbing and a sharp talon; a wyvern's wing. Her teeth grew sharper; two canines in particular jutted out of her upper gums. Another tail joined the one she already had, and whiskers flowed from each side of her face.
The Forbidden Form rose.
The beast who used to be Raven let out a monstrous roar before barreling towards 'Torvald' in a blind rage, her eyes glowing very fiercely. Once she began sprinting like she had nothing to lose, so did Thalia. Even though she wasn't in her Raptor form anymore, she was sick and angry. No, she was MORE than that. She was filled with absolute hatred, and it was all because a God was upset because he had his playthings taken away from him.
You're going to pay for this!!!
Thalia brought out her curved dagger, screamed, and ran towards the God with nothing but a thirst for his spilled blood in her eyes.
There was a flash of silver, and a splash of red. The blade protruded from Call's back, plunged straight through his heart. Torvald held him up by it, looking into his eyes as the life died inside them. "I'm here to change that."
Everything said before that didn’t matter. Not anymore. None of Not-Torvald’s villainous monologuing, none of anything she had said or the Whisper had said or Aerik had said or really, anything of what anyone had said before this mattered. It was just a stupid argument. All of it. All of this was just idiotic, just stupid selfish gods wanting to go to war with each other and taking no consideration at all into how the lowly mortals that they had extreme power over felt.
It was like a child playing with a butterfly, ripping off its wings before it had even the ability to fly, and the child has no idea that it has just killed a creature, just caused immense pain, because what does it relate to the struggles of a butterfly? Nothing. Nothing at all.
It was all caused by stupid gods being bored with the world, their sandbox. They had created sandcastles, and small people out of sand, and now that they were bored with it, they wanted to change things around. They wanted to play. And they knew that the little sand people couldn’t fight back, yet they played with them anyway.
Everything was slowed down. The flash of silver. The red liquid, it all happened slowly, like someone had decided to mess with the flow of time. Lucine watched it, watched the whole thing, her brave act dropping, her eyes widening, her hand reaching to her mouth as she slowly gasped. She watched the blade come out the other end, and she watched the one she loved die on it, his lifeless body held up by the god before him, still dangling off of the blade.
Lucine let one word escape her lips, but that word was too late to stop any of it from happening. She shouted “NO”, and the the word echoed throughout the entire hall, as though she was shouting for her own life. She couldn’t hear it though. She couldn’t hear any of it.
All she could hear was Callum’s screaming. The screams which hadn’t escaped his lips but had reached her, through the connection that their souls shared. Even though they were screams, she was holding onto them with some form of hope because they meant he was alive, they meant he was still there, and there was some hope to be had in that. She held onto them until then stopped, and then there was nothing but quiet.
Callum was dead.
She didn’t hear anything else. She didn’t see anything else. The world seemed to blur, and she found herself beginning to shake violently. There were tears running from her yellow eyes, she could feel them on her cheeks, wet and cold and falling down, falling, falling, falling.
Lucine felt herself curling inwards, hugging herself so tightly that it was hard to breathe. Or, maybe it was hard to breath because of her sobs. She was sobbing loud and hard, the kind of ugly sobbing you only read about. It was impossible to process anything going on in the moment. There was only one thought.
He is dead, and you are all alone.
He is dead, and you are all alone
He is dead
Lucine felt herself falling to the floor, onto her knees, as easy and as weightless as if she was made of paper. She was still sobbing, her sobs coming out in loud, unpleasant noises, and in between each sob she would say “No.” First loudly, but as she begin to shrink and fall, they got quiet, until she was doing nothing but muttering them.
“No.. no… no..”
She couldn’t move. She was paralyzed. Her love was dead, the only one person she had left was gone. Callum, the boy who had helped her, who had helped ignite her and given her more hope than her little optimistic heart had ever possessed before was dead right in front of her, and all she could do was crumple down into a heap and cry. She was shaking and crying, sobbing, there on the floor, and nothing was real anymore.
We were supposed to get out of this.. she told herself, feeling empty and cold. She was still gasping, her eyes closed shut tightly, her head foggy and her thoughts coming at her miles fast, You weren’t supposed to die, not here, not now, not when we were so close…
Not after everything you’ve been through….
Lucine was sitting there, on the floor, sobbing loudly, and gasping for air, as though all of it was gone. There was nothing for her to do. There was nothing she could do. She felt like she had just been hit, hard, and her head was pounding, and she felt empty and cold, despite the cloak around her body, the cloak which had belonged to him….
Lucine felt the world closing in around her, felt herself becoming submerged. She didn’t see Raven turn into a monster. She couldn’t hear Thalia screaming. Callum’s death was on replay in her mind, an image that for the rest of her life would haunt her.
He was gone, he was dead, and Lucine was all alone. She was all alone, small as ever, a plaything to a malevolent god. It was in the moment she wished she had been eradicated with the rest of the world back in her own timeline. It was in that moment she knew nothing would go on for her. She sobbed until she felt herself unable to breath. She sobbed until she was choking for air, crying in a heap on the floor of the throne room, looking as absolutely pathetic as she always did.
Everything happened very quickly for the werewolf.
The boy was killed. It was fast, and probably caused him an immense amount of pain, and the werewolf knew that- she could smell the blood before it even left his body. But her first action was whipping around to find two parties- the first of which being the girl, Lucine, who she looked quickly away from, and the second being the Whisper, who she knew would most likely be murdered in the coming minutes.
And, of course, she was saying every swear word she knew at the moment.
She found the Whisper, her green eyes landing onto the Entity as it began to decompose into ink- so that was what happened to Enigmas when they died. When she did find it, she quickly made her way over to it, only a few paces away from a run. There was going to be chaos very soon after, and she needed to get the girl out of there before she became swept up in all of it.
It was hard to not hear her, sobbing and shouting. Felicity wasn’t sure she was aware of what she was even doing.
The werewolf had seen people die before- hell, her wife had died in her arms. She knew what it looked like when life left them, and she knew how it affected everyone around them. But the Whispers death was unlike any she had ever seen- he was becoming ink. If it wasn’t a death, it would be bada**.
Felicity reached his side and watched him, thinking of what to say. She didn’t really have anything to say to him, not really. She had been a late addition to the group, and the Entity had been her closest thing to a friend within it. Unsure of what to do, she made a motion with her hand.
Hats off to you, mate
His final statement to her processed in her mind, and made her chest begin to feel even more empty than it already was. Callidora, her wife, had somehow made contact with him? Had it been in a later period, or was she there right then, floating around in an area where the boundary between between life and death was weak? Felicity didn’t give herself time to process the thought.
I love you too, wherever the hell you are she thought to herself, and began to look in the direction of Thalia and Raven, watching as the latter began to shift into something akin to a monster.
It took her aback for a moment, but the reality of the situation set in, and she remembered that Callidora’s sister, the weak little thing, was currently in a crying heap on the floor, and judging by the wolf monster, sh*t was about to go down. Loyalty kicked in, and Felicity glanced down at what was once the Whisper, pushing back the tears that were bubbling in her eyes as she touched the rope wrapped around her finger.
It was always slightly painful to transform, and this time was no different, her body contorting until she was no longer human, but wolf, and suddenly all the human emotion went away, all the pain she was trying to keep bottled down, as though it had morphed away with her human form. She was a wolf now, and she smelled blood, and she knew who that blood belonged to, and who’s sword it was on.
The wolf could also smell the forbidden form of the other wolf, and it smelled like no creature she had ever encountered.
Felicity was scared, but she quickly got to work, moving over to where the girl was hunched on the floor, in an attempted to reach her. When she finally did, she bit down on her arm, and, hearing the accompanying cry of pain, began to drag the girl away from everything that was going on.
The least she could do was get her some peace.
There was a flash of silver, and a splash of red. The blade protruded from Call's back, plunged straight through his heart. Torvald held him up by it, looking into his eyes as the life died inside them. "I'm here to change that."
Everything said before that didn’t matter. Not anymore. None of Not-Torvald’s villainous monologuing, none of anything she had said or the Whisper had said or Aerik had said or really, anything of what anyone had said before this mattered. It was just a stupid argument. All of it. All of this was just idiotic, just stupid selfish gods wanting to go to war with each other and taking no consideration at all into how the lowly mortals that they had extreme power over felt.
It was like a child playing with a butterfly, ripping off its wings before it had even the ability to fly, and the child has no idea that it has just killed a creature, just caused immense pain, because what does it relate to the struggles of a butterfly? Nothing. Nothing at all.
It was all caused by stupid gods being bored with the world, their sandbox. They had created sandcastles, and small people out of sand, and now that they were bored with it, they wanted to change things around. They wanted to play. And they knew that the little sand people couldn’t fight back, yet they played with them anyway.
Everything was slowed down. The flash of silver. The red liquid, it all happened slowly, like someone had decided to mess with the flow of time. Lucine watched it, watched the whole thing, her brave act dropping, her eyes widening, her hand reaching to her mouth as she slowly gasped. She watched the blade come out the other end, and she watched the one she loved die on it, his lifeless body held up by the god before him, still dangling off of the blade.
Lucine let one word escape her lips, but that word was too late to stop any of it from happening. She shouted “NO”, and the the word echoed throughout the entire hall, as though she was shouting for her own life. She couldn’t hear it though. She couldn’t hear any of it.
All she could hear was Callum’s screaming. The screams which hadn’t escaped his lips but had reached her, through the connection that their souls shared. Even though they were screams, she was holding onto them with some form of hope because they meant he was alive, they meant he was still there, and there was some hope to be had in that. She held onto them until then stopped, and then there was nothing but quiet.
Callum was dead.
She didn’t hear anything else. She didn’t see anything else. The world seemed to blur, and she found herself beginning to shake violently. There were tears running from her yellow eyes, she could feel them on her cheeks, wet and cold and falling down, falling, falling, falling.
Lucine felt herself curling inwards, hugging herself so tightly that it was hard to breathe. Or, maybe it was hard to breath because of her sobs. She was sobbing loud and hard, the kind of ugly sobbing you only read about. It was impossible to process anything going on in the moment. There was only one thought.
He is dead, and you are all alone.
He is dead, and you are all alone
He is dead
Lucine felt herself falling to the floor, onto her knees, as easy and as weightless as if she was made of paper. She was still sobbing, her sobs coming out in loud, unpleasant noises, and in between each sob she would say “No.” First loudly, but as she begin to shrink and fall, they got quiet, until she was doing nothing but muttering them.
“No.. no… no..”
She couldn’t move. She was paralyzed. Her love was dead, the only one person she had left was gone. Callum, the boy who had helped her, who had helped ignite her and given her more hope than her little optimistic heart had ever possessed before was dead right in front of her, and all she could do was crumple down into a heap and cry. She was shaking and crying, sobbing, there on the floor, and nothing was real anymore.
We were supposed to get out of this.. she told herself, feeling empty and cold. She was still gasping, her eyes closed shut tightly, her head foggy and her thoughts coming at her miles fast, You weren’t supposed to die, not here, not now, not when we were so close…
Not after everything you’ve been through….
Lucine was sitting there, on the floor, sobbing loudly, and gasping for air, as though all of it was gone. There was nothing for her to do. There was nothing she could do. She felt like she had just been hit, hard, and her head was pounding, and she felt empty and cold, despite the cloak around her body, the cloak which had belonged to him….
Lucine felt the world closing in around her, felt herself becoming submerged. She didn’t see Raven turn into a monster. She couldn’t hear Thalia screaming. Callum’s death was on replay in her mind, an image that for the rest of her life would haunt her.
He was gone, he was dead, and Lucine was all alone. She was all alone, small as ever, a plaything to a malevolent god. It was in the moment she wished she had been eradicated with the rest of the world back in her own timeline. It was in that moment she knew nothing would go on for her. She sobbed until she felt herself unable to breath. She sobbed until she was choking for air, crying in a heap on the floor of the throne room, looking as absolutely pathetic as she always did.
Everything happened very quickly for the werewolf.
The boy was killed. It was fast, and probably caused him an immense amount of pain, and the werewolf knew that- she could smell the blood before it even left his body. But her first action was whipping around to find two parties- the first of which being the girl, Lucine, who she looked quickly away from, and the second being the Whisper, who she knew would most likely be murdered in the coming minutes.
And, of course, she was saying every swear word she knew at the moment.
She found the Whisper, her green eyes landing onto the Entity as it began to decompose into ink- so that was what happened to Enigmas when they died. When she did find it, she quickly made her way over to it, only a few paces away from a run. There was going to be chaos very soon after, and she needed to get the girl out of there before she became swept up in all of it.
It was hard to not hear her, sobbing and shouting. Felicity wasn’t sure she was aware of what she was even doing.
The werewolf had seen people die before- hell, her wife had died in her arms. She knew what it looked like when life left them, and she knew how it affected everyone around them. But the Whispers death was unlike any she had ever seen- he was becoming ink. If it wasn’t a death, it would be bada**.
Felicity reached his side and watched him, thinking of what to say. She didn’t really have anything to say to him, not really. She had been a late addition to the group, and the Entity had been her closest thing to a friend within it. Unsure of what to do, she made a motion with her hand.
Hats off to you, mate
His final statement to her processed in her mind, and made her chest begin to feel even more empty than it already was. Callidora, her wife, had somehow made contact with him? Had it been in a later period, or was she there right then, floating around in an area where the boundary between between life and death was weak? Felicity didn’t give herself time to process the thought.
I love you too, wherever the hell you are she thought to herself, and began to look in the direction of Thalia and Raven, watching as the latter began to shift into something akin to a monster.
It took her aback for a moment, but the reality of the situation set in, and she remembered that Callidora’s sister, the weak little thing, was currently in a crying heap on the floor, and judging by the wolf monster, sh*t was about to go down. Loyalty kicked in, and Felicity glanced down at what was once the Whisper, pushing back the tears that were bubbling in her eyes as she touched the rope wrapped around her finger.
It was always slightly painful to transform, and this time was no different, her body contorting until she was no longer human, but wolf, and suddenly all the human emotion went away, all the pain she was trying to keep bottled down, as though it had morphed away with her human form. She was a wolf now, and she smelled blood, and she knew who that blood belonged to, and who’s sword it was on.
The wolf could also smell the forbidden form of the other wolf, and it smelled like no creature she had ever encountered.
Felicity was scared, but she quickly got to work, moving over to where the girl was hunched on the floor, in an attempted to reach her. When she finally did, she bit down on her arm, and, hearing the accompanying cry of pain, began to drag the girl away from everything that was going on.
The least she could do was get her some peace.
