My Keeper

King Of Fire, Ash and Shadow

"To not fear death, would that not be desirable?"

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Music Playlist:

Main song: You're in love with a villain | Dark Romance Piano to Relax, Study, Read and Write | Dark Academia

Dead Kings- Hauntingly Majestic Dark Fantasy Music

Dead Gods- Hauntingly Beautiful Vocal Fantasy Music

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Steep isn't quite the word for this mountainside. It was jagged and sharp. It looked cold, but there was a heat radiating. There were spots of flames, flames close to the ground, hugging the earth like lava. The fire didn’t grow, but the flames wouldn’t be put out.

The sky above felt so close, from the thick shroud of black and dark grey clouds. There was not a hint of sunlight. Just a choking presence of something close to an eternal night. A never-ending storm waiting to take charge.

Shouts broke out, angry cruel voices. Somewhere behind me, somewhere close. So I climbed this mountainside. Where a skull or two would show face. The rock was like ashes. Crunching beneath my bare feet. But it didn’t hurt. It was what it was. Weak stones. Was this mountain weak?

I threw myself behind boulders. Stumbling towards a crack within the walls of a cliff. A steep drop cutting off any form of escape. This was it.

“Show yourself!” A voice sliced through the thick air towards me. I heard metal and muttering, and I wondered what my foes even looked like, “we know where you are, there is no way out.”

His voice lowered to a commanding tone. He knew. He wasn’t luring me from my hiding spot worried I’d escape. He knew there was nowhere for me to go.

As I gazed over the drop of cliff I questioned if death would be merciful though a fall as violent as this didn’t seem worth it. The sword may be the most inviting door to death. Before I could make the decision something lit up inside my head, projecting into my eyes.

A stone. A small perfectly round black stone. The center has cracks within it. Broken but not. I felt its frigid surface. Biting at the skin. But then I felt its warmth like hot liquid. Spreading over my palm. Making its cracks become golden with light. My eyes opened and I was still greeted by the harrowing drop off.

“There is no point,” he mentioned deeply, “we can stay here longer than you can survive without water.”

I clenched my teeth as that realisation dawned over me, “I can light it,” my dried cracked voice left my throat.

He didn’t respond, no one made a sound, “you can’t kill me,” I stated bluntly. I slowly stood up and stepped into the opening. He was tall, slim, his skin cold as ice. White as snow. A harsh contrast against the ashen realm.

His hair shined like the night, sleek and long to his elbows. His armour, silver. His cloak black and dark crimson. His black gloves were fingerless and his knuckles silver from armour. His presence, haunting.

The rest of them were nearly the same but scarred. Rough, rocky with Rigidness. The way they held themselves, proud but stubborn. Impatient to process with the action to slay me.

He took a step towards me, his black armoured boots clinking as he approached. His sword clenched in his fist, lowered to his side. His dark blue eyes, midnight and a never-ending void of space.

I didn’t back down even though any moment this could all end. His stone rests upon his silver breastplate. Dead and lifeless. Nothing but a stone, was it as weak as the mountain?