Prologue
The land of Purgatory was blanketed in darkness. Sparse were the stars that gleamed above, thin was the waning moon as it winked down across the desert lands. Down below, the city of Madina lay cloaked in darkness. Strong winds carried sand in mini tornadoes through the streets, sending tarps and blankets fluttering and flapping. The only source of light lay hidden behind a ratty blanket used for a makeshift curtain that billowed over a set of frosted window.
The flame danced and swayed as wind seeped through the cracks of the windows, reaching out to tease old crisp parchment laid across an old writing desk. The room was Spartan in simplicity, a mere desk, trunk, and bed, all neatly kempt. Sitting at the desk, scribbling on the parchment with urgency, a creature sat with trembling hands, black eyes wide as sweat ran down the side of his jaw and fell to the page. He reached up with a shaking hand to brush his long black hair from his face as he lifted his eyes to glance upon the flame that snapped in the wind.
Flinching, he dropped his eyes back to the page, writing with haste as he felt another fierce chill rocket up and down his spine in warning. He could feel them coming. He could feel the chill of their presence, the poison in his soul calling out to them, infiltrating the blood in his veins, turning them to ice. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on the task at hand, to warn his superiors above of the danger that was lurking all around them. A danger that only he could sense, for he too bore the poison that drove them to hunger.
The cold was becoming oppressive, as was the darkness that came with it. His breath came in sharp pants, the only sound aside from the soft whisper of the wind entering the room. His lips parted as he sucked in the air around him, then choked on its frigid vapor. His breath left in soft clouds that were captured by the wind and dissolved. He slammed his eyes shut as the poison spread from his veins to the marrow of his bones.
So frigid. So icy. It burned.
Unable to stand it any further, his pen scratched the surface of the parchment, tearing through it as he threw the pen across the room and surged to his feet, catching himself on the desk to keep from crumpling to the floor.
He rose to his towering six foot ten height as the cold shot up his spine once more, this time piercing his skull and he threw his head back in a silent scream of agony. His black hair slid over his shoulders, spilling down his back, his breathing ragged. Ice shot through every inch of his body and he trembled as it rocked his body, and it only became worse as the candle's flame began to dim. The golden lick shrank back, the hue of purple and blue reaching up to engulf orange and yellow, as if the flame also sensed the coldness, the darkness.
He lifted his head slowly to pin the candle with a glare, sweat pouring down his face as he reached out with a shaking hand. Despite being so small, so insignificant, that candle's flame burned. It burned his sensitive eyes, seared the coldness of his skin, of his soul. He reached out with a shaking hand, and the cold rushed through his hand, through his fingers, and the poison stretched his nails out, pulling them until they became sharpened claws. The flame vanished, leaving behind a thin plume of smoke that shuddered in the wind, wind that shook the windows, rattling the glass in their panes.
They're here.
The comprehensive thought was the last one he had before the windows blasted open, flinging back into the walls and knocking the glass from the panes, sending them exploding into the room. The winds screamed into the room, reaching like hands for the creature that stumbled back and fell against a corner of the room. He threw his head back, tried too reach out with a clawed hand for the window, but the force of the winds forced him back.
The winds spiraled in, catching the creature's black robes, shredding them until they fell in ragged strips to the cold stone flooring. A horrendous roar rose up, combining with the haunted howls of wind, and the creature arched his back, his eyes flying open to stare up at the ceiling that cracked and sprinkled debris down upon him, and blackness spread through his eyes, coating them completely. His fangs elongated and his jaw unhinged, cracking as it shot down at an unnatural angle, his cheeks sinking in, stretching.
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Dark Requiem [malexmale]
Adventure[Book 18] Starting over again can be a huge pain in the ass. Something Xiphrus completely agrees with as he attempts to settle in this new world. His plan is to right his wrongs. And it all starts by helping a realm in need when a dark force erupts...