Eclipse

Eclipse: Chapter 13

Eclipse: Chapter 13

By: Dracanoth Dereal and Spottedleaf9

(Dracanoth)

Agonizing pain coursed through my chest slamming into me every time my heart beat. Blackness swarmed my vision and I quickly became familiar with unknown pains never felt before. What seemed like days were merely seconds although I felt like I had aged a thousand years. Nothing seemed real and I was only dimly aware of the air filling my lungs as though they had been deprived of it for far too long. I was similarly aware of the clothes that clung to my body seeming to have been drenched in water. All of the unknown elements that were presented to me as I woke with a start became known to me as time seemed to stretch on into eons. After what seemed like a thousand years I finally had slowed my breath, but the constricting feeling coursing through every fiber of my being did not cease.

And the seconds that passed at eons did not cease.

After hours of seconds my gaze finally fell upon the Dragonborn as she lay perfectly still in sleep. Dreams swarmed her mind I'm sure, as I stood staring upon Valisilwen. As soon as my eyes rest upon her, the constrictions in my chest flared tenfold. I knew not what this dream meant nor did I know what Horny was at, and that's what unsettled me the most. As the days in seconds passed the millions of possibilities ran through my head, and I knew that my entire life would have to be rethought. I closed my eyes and instantly Horny gazed back at me, his familiar grin spreading across his face proudly showing each individual tooth. The words escaped from under his breath, quiet yet seeming to echo and resonate all throughout my head sending crippling waves of agony through my skull. It would be a sleepless night, and one of which not a single sound, no matter how loud a wolf were to howl or how cold a breeze might blow it would not reach me even if I were to be listening for such an event. There was nothing, no moon, no sky, no world as mine was torn apart by sundering pain.

(Michael)

The light seeped into my vision as it did every morning without fail when I finally opened my eyes to the world around me. Air seemed to message my skin like never before, just as it did every morning without fail. Light filtered in through the tent, weaving tendrils dancing through the air as it played with the particles floating about though they were one, the light and the particles combining to create one item.

In the stark of morning I turned to Drac, still resting as it was every morning without fail, and began my silent rise within the small tent. Valisilwen was already gone. What was she up to at any rate that required her to get up at such an untimely hour? For several months I would wake up and see that Valisilwen was already awake. At times I woke up far earlier than usual only to find that she had already been awake At other times I woke up to sounds of her rousing from her sleep to leave at unrealistic times. In the end it didn't really matter, she worried me to the ends of the earth and back but Dracanoth was relentless, there was no point in worrying over it. Lord Dracanoth would keep her in good health whether she was mentally broken down or a shining picture of morality and mental state. At times I worry that he might bleed her out in a sword fight putting her on the verge of death to torture her for hours on end before finally bringing her off the brink. To beat her into a bloody pulp, show her the deepest wanders of hell from the world of which he came from. Valisilwen got off lucky when he killed Farkas. It could have been far worse. During the Black Floored War against all five of the most renowned Keepers, I personally was ordered to bring in several captured prisoners. As the muck covered me from head to toe I would enter their territory prepared to fight, and most often than not their very own family members and loved ones whom lived in a humble hut with their beloved husband would mistake me for their own, as the black goop had concealed my every aspect except for height and build. The families were brought in, tortured, beaten, but kept alive. The father was forced to watch as he was tortured, beaten, brutalized. Blood added to the already apparent grime and the process carried on for days in an endless nightmare of blood and gore. Blood blisters webbed across the surface of their bruised skin and broken bones, threatening to worsen as their skin stretched from the expansion of each breath. And in the end, the father was finally given the weapon to kill their own family driven mad by the pain that consumed him. If he did not, far worse things would happen, unmentionable things. As the man was broken, having no family and no one left to his name, they finally broke becoming an empty soul willing to give up any knowledge within them having survived the deepest pits of hell. And in the end it was as if Dracanoth was not even aware of the brutal things he had done, as though they were normal. Frequently after such gruesome afternoons of scheduled torture he would wash up and enjoy tea, wearing the exact same face as he drank the only thing he seemed attracted to as when he bore the hot iron in his hand, blistering and broiling the flesh off of his caged animals.