Curze's Curse

What is truth and what are lies?

Coltharor stood in a large room. She stood just besides its door. A wide carved dark oak door, its handle of shiny metal. The room was dark, unaturaly so. She barely saw anything in there at all. She slowly walked deeper into it. Arm stretched, touching its wall to guide herself, into the unlight that the room was eveloped by. Slowly she walked, her golden eyes shining as if they were small pale lamps. He white hair and icy demeanor a small outlier in this darkness.

She slowly walked, a bed was there, large, for two people. It touched the wall as if caressing a companion. The walls were pale, but not unkind, a friendly face in this dark room. After a while, her eyes accustomed to its darkness, now she could discern the shapes of objects. Lamps and chandeliers, pen and papers. Papers containings words that she could not read, they looked important, but that was as far as she deciphered.

She slowly got herself into the bed, trying to sleep into this room where this monster that had decided to tell her tales had left her alone. She looked at the ceiling, pondering on her life.

Why had she not felt fear in that room when all others were terrified?

Why had she been spared? His tales, were tales of murders, of justice delivered in a bloodly hand, but she wasnt able to hate it. His parents had always told her that murder was bad, but his tales. The sadness in his tone, so indistinguishable to many showed more than his face conveyed. She had heard it on the day he entered the council room. His voice slightly lessened in tone when she spoke. His indistinguishable to all but her. Or at least it seemed.

Was she different? She thought. It was something that had nagged in her mind for these 2 days, although she never gave voice to the feeling. She barely talked this entire time. She could speak, but she didn't do it. She relied on movements to do the talking, and she spoke, her voice was sweet but icy. She could manipulate its tone as a Guardsman manipulates his Lasgun to achieve the best way to kill its enemy. She had done it before, and she felt she would do it in the future.

"Why?" She asked herself, her voice cold as the dark voice of space.

She looked at the ceiling, pondering. She stood there, pondering into the meaning of these last days for many minutes, as if in a trance.

Suddenly she heard the flapping of feathery wings, a loud peaking sound from a glass window that she didn't notice. On the right of the bed was a small dark door, large enough to fit a mature human but small enough to impede someone like those she had seen take the council members. She looked at it, and a raven peaked the glass. He was small, dark and feathered. He opened the door, and instead of having a bird fly wildly throughout the room he stood there, staring at her own cat like golden eyes with his own dark pupils.

"Cawk." The bird entoned.

She ignored whatever meaning it may have had, and with her soft cold hands she ruffled his feathers with a calm and thoughtful intent.

The bird growled in satisfaction but soon enough detached himself from her hands and took flight. As if instructing her to follow them.

She didn't understand, but then again she had barely understood what was happening in these last 2 days. So she followed him.

The raven flew through ventilation ports, a place that she could hardly believe she would be able to follow it but she managed. Slowly going through the ventilation vents on the high rich complex of Phantine's high nobility. She followed the bird, slowly and surely she started to hear screams of a voice she heard just a few hours before.

"I DON'T KNOW. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH." She heard under the dampening effect of the ventilation shaft.

The raven looked at her, but soon enough continued. She didn't stop, she followed him. Silently and slowly, she continued. Each step done with precision higher than all mortals, and her eyes. Oh her golden eyes had started to see through the darkness that no one should be able to.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" She heard another voice, hard and venomous, deceitful but pained.

"NO,NO PLS. LET ME GO. I KNOW NOTHING. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" The servant screamed once more.

"Unfortunately for you. That is incorrect." He heard the pained voice say. "What do they call us now? I wonder? What would your Imperium call us? What would they call Horus, and Fulgrim. Oh and Lorgar, your perfect worshiper who you managed to turn against you... I wonder what they call them now." The voice continued, speaking absentmindedly. As if he wasn't speaking to his prisoner.

"I know nothing of those names. Please spare me." The servant implored.