Shreds of an Archive

The Dead May Weep

A gradual breeze swept through the tall grass, washing over the tall grass creating a vast movement likened to that of an ocean's wave. The sun had begun sinking into the distant mountains creating an iridescent rich landscape of reds, oranges and purples, quickly changing to brilliant new combinations as the sun sank further. A company of warriors trekked through the palette painted on top of the vast plain. The company was a tired lot, those who were on horses struggled to keep awake in their saddles, and those who weren't moved barely kept conscious while walking. They had been traveling hard for the past two days, fear driving them forward.

"Stop." The leader of the band called. They sluggishly pulled to a stop, some looking at him confused, others just staring at the ground.

In the road in front of them, a man lay on the ground, a hole in his shoulder where something had pierced him clean and through. The corpse was warm, recently killed.

"This isn't good" the leader said, voice near shaking.

Mist began seeping out of the dead-man's mouth, pooling and congealing in a thick pile beside him. The party started, shock and terror quickly waking them up, freezing them in place for a few short moments.

"Evnis, we must move!" One of the warriors called.

They began running.

All of the men had witnessed the mist at least once, perhaps before their home was destroyed, or their loved ones were killed. The mist brought nothing but despair and misery, it was despair and misery, and rage, contorting and condensing into a slurry of something deeply malignant. A pure evil. A Shade

The mist grew large, larger than a galley at this point, its tendrils reaching out and scouring the dead man's corpse- ripping it apart limb by limb, using it and nearby materials to create something unholy.

A horrifying roar rang out, full of rage and hatred, sending deep chills down the party's spines.

A mangled humanoid shape of limbs and organs appeared from the mist, moving quickly amongst the tall grass, illuminated by the last dying rays of the setting sun. It outpaced them with ease, long strides covering overwhelming distances. Evnis changed direction

"Go! I'll lead it away, keep moving and reach the Faver-" His words were cut short as a boulder landed directly on him, gore splattering and bones crunching. Shade threw another boulder, managing to maintain its inhuman pace all the while. It landed right next to a warrior, not yet past his twentieth nameday, sending debris flying up into his face.

"This is no good, we'll all be dead by sunset at this rate!" The young warrior shouted. "We have to fight!"

He turned, facing the monster, most of the party turned with him, knowing it was their last chance. A couple ran on, but were quickly crushed by boulders and trees uprooted by the Shade. As it got closer to the party, its grotesque detail stood out, its body parts were a mix of nature and human, dirt and organs in equal parts, the latter dangling out of many sections of the monster's terrible figure.

Men screamed as the creature reached their line, but the screams quickly stopped as they were killed before they even had a chance to raise their sword.

"Circle it!" The young warrior shouted, rallying the men back into form. Tentatively, the began moving around the Shade, it waited for a few moments, then struck out at the nearest man, a tendril of mist piercing his heart, he collapsed quickly. Men screamed, swords raised over their heads, but they were dispatched quickly.

The young warrior watched as all of his sword brothers were killed or fatally injured.

Despair and terror racked through him. He looked around at the corpses of the ones he had known for so long, sang songs with, and sat by campfires night after night with. They were dead now, and he too would be, soon.

His fear turned to rage.

He released a guttural war cry, charging the beast with the desperation of a cornered beast, hatred consuming him.

I will kill you.

He sidestepped as a tendril whipped by him, backstepped as a rocky fist slammed down into the ground in front of him. He took his opportunity, slashing quickly at the grounded arm. His sword was buried in a crevice of rocks, pebbles, dirt, and organs, not managing to slice through the arm completely. The beast roared, and charged towards him, his sword stayed stuck in its arm, becoming a part of it as tendrils of mist wrapped themselves around him.

All he could do was watch, as his death approached him.

I love you, mom.

His head was sliced clean off with a wet thunk.