Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 42.5 - Wither

A haze sifted through the air of her weary mind. The shutters of sight strained and defiant, and yet in this clouded slumber did she see again.

The echoes of clicking steel, the weighty pressure of the area, the empty white that blotted the senses; she could be no place else.

The Throne seemed ghostly, almost ethereal, with the lack of waging battle. Unnerving, the silence screamed at the trained ear, and only the ricochet of heels pierced it. Velvet could not fathom why her mind felt it necessary to torment her with that undeniable failure.

In its centre was the daemon placed, twisting amongst the spotless sheen of carved marble. If it had still beat in her chest, Velvet would only drown beneath waves of anguish with each pound of the blackened heart. No one remained with her here, alive nor dead.

Gold bore towards the insufferable throne that sat at the hall's end, and before it, did a crack settle. And from it, was a purple petaled flower; cupped as shrouding lavender amongst pure white accents. Velvet bit her lip in silence.

She did not will her body to move, and yet her coat swept stone nonetheless in its sway. The daemon knelt at the plant's resting place, the beautiful parlanis bright and healthy despite its invading roots. Her hand snaked to its base, the rough fingertips unintentionally harsh at the stem, almost like pressing flesh. The woman pulled, and off did the flower twist with a quiet snap.

Lightless hazel stared on, as the passionate lilac drained away. Legs shifting to a stand, the colour slipped further, head tilting as its purple washed away as paint. It's head fell completely with its voiceless suffering, blackened petals and dried stem like ash on skin. Velvet's face was dark and helpless in its grimace, the fruitless push of the flower's head leaving it only to sink back down without resistance.

"I... warned him," was the woman's bitter mumble. "I'm a monster, that idiot got himself killed." The golden eyes that stared down held the void, and her brows pulled to a glare. "That's just how it goes...!"

Her hand slammed to a fist, and the flower turned to cinders.

A passing chill glanced skin, barely smothered by the tattered garments, sending a howl across the throne. Velvet felt cold.

"How sentimental."

She whipped about with eyes strewn to a scouring glower. Silence. Legs flexed to a waiting pounce, the daemon stared across the vast chamber with waring wolfish eyes. Until, the voice finally registered in the addled mind, and Velvet halted in place; as did the world. Footsteps echoed from behind, with the mild buzz of a passing voltage; and the harsh stance fell. And yet, tension brewed with clenched teeth, and the daemoness denied a glance.

Yet it was unnecessary, for soon did the amble click past with a sweep of faded white, before the gilded pair aligned with a lone violet iris.

The scar was as fresh as it was hours ago now, and the ruined garb was matched only by the Lord of Calamity's own. A missing sleeve, marred skin, dirtied hair and a body that seemed only moments from crumbling; still did he smile.

Sarid winced with a blink.

"Hey, wolfy."

Velvet didn't say a word for what felt like minutes, simply gazing deep into the half-malak without a sound. As if trying to decipher a puzzle.