Dormant

3

I cannot stop this sickness taking over
It takes control and drags me into nowhere.
I need your help,
I can't fight this forever,
I know you're watching,
I can feel you out there.

-Starset, My Demons

3

The Pale Horseman cracked open an eye as he groaned, feeling a sharp pain pulling at the side of his chest. Grass shifted under him as he moved and he sat up slowly to mind his shoulder. And that's when it occurred to him.

Death hadn't felt actual pain in centuries.

Propping his weight on his uninjured arm, Death panted and ran a hand over his pounding forehead as he searched for clues as to where he was, his fingers tangling into his pitch black hair. A small fire laid about ten feet away from him, crackling and snapping as it burned bright orange, red, and yellow. Nearby he could see horses. But only three. Before he could process what he had seen -one large white horse, one that was only noticeable by the white of their eyes when it turned its head because of its dark fur, and one that glowed red from markings along its neck- his eyes had wandered to the large man that was sitting near the fire with his back turned to him, scraping a rock against a massive sword. Confusion filtered through Death's mind for a moment. He didn't recognize the person at first. Long white hair spilled out from a red hood. Armor of yellow, dark grays, and light grays outlined the contours of his muscular body. The shadow made by the fire caused the man's arms to look even larger and the gauntlet on his left hand looked terrifyingly gruesome as it dragged a rock across his sword's length. Already a path had been cut through by the sword in the underside of the rock that was being slid across the sword. It clicked in Death's mind, however, when he grunted again and the man turned his head at the noise.

War. Out of the four of the Horsemen, War and Fury looked the most alike. Their faces were slightly round, perfect, and angular. The look of perfection for a child of a demon and angel. They shared the perfect nose; a simple, diagonal tilt that was the perfect length to their countenance. They still shared characteristics with their other two brothers; the somewhat same shaped chin, the perfection of features that happened to grace them. Death and Strife had the more sharper of the features, with pointed noses and a more angular face. The pitch black hair that looked better in length and cut neat. Even their tempers had similarities. Death and Fury, when provoked, had so much anger, that they could see red. Strife needed more poking than them before he snapped, and War was an immovable stone and normally remained emotionless. Both Death and Strife had a statistic attitude to them. War and Fury stuck to their honor and pride. But, even with all of their differences, they were still brothers and sister though.

"You are awake."

War's deep voice caused Death's headache to flare and the elder of the two lifted a finger, signaling for the other to remain quiet so he could recover."Unfortunately," Death muttered as he finished sitting up. "What happened? I do not remember much after my shoulder was wounded."

His brother's ice blue eyes narrowed and he turned his attention back to Chaoseater. Death felt himself tense as the metal rang out into the silent of the night as War sharpened it. "We were battling the new creature that we found when you were struck by a tentacle of some sorts and was knocked unconscious. We brought you here, away from the creature, and where Orion, the Stag of these woods, thought that we would be from harm's way."

Memories rushed back to him. He could see himself rushing through the masses made of ash, slicing through them with his scythe. His attention had been pulled away from the fight by Strife; the White Horseman had claimed to see something moving in the shadows of the trees and had broke away from the fight despite Death's wishes. Death had even caught a glimpse of the new creature -it was as white as a ghost, purple streaking down its hide, and had been as quick as lightning. By the time that Death had lifted a hand from Despair's neck, attempting to correct his brother, he had felt a prickling in his shoulder. The next thing that Death had known he was being hit by a large object across his chest that he had not seen coming. Apparently it knocked him unconscious.