Descent

Chapter Eight

As the sun rose over the city of Edinburg, I flipped through the pages of yet another book in the reading tower trying to figure out what was going on. Books sprawled around with titles varying from "Ghosts; the Restless Afterlife In Real Life" to "How to deal with visions and dreams." Most of the books say I'm crazy, talked about different forms of beliefs in afterlife, were labeled as fiction, or just in general, sounded insane; but it was hard for me not to believe that the things that had happened yesterday and last night weren't real. Especially considering that I had never believed in anything happening besides going to heaven or hell. Spirits pushing through you and weird traveling keys weren't exactly part of any of my beliefs.
    But I had proof of it; when I held the key last night, it burnt me. I lowered the book I had and looked down at my hand and once again saw the burn etched in the shape of a small key. I sighed and moved my fingers to rub the edge of my nose under my glasses "I don't know what I'm doing, what exactly is going on or how to figure any of it out," I muttered. I turned and looked at the sun creeping its way into the sky. The library still wouldn't be open for a couple more hours, but I would be gone by then.
    Amidst wondering when Sean would show up, I found myself looking at the keys again. They were still in the envelope, but I had them sat on the desk in the tower to keep me from being burnt again. I set the book I was holding on to one of the various piles and walked over to the desk and picked out the letter from inside the packed envelope. I chuckled a little, realizing my uncle's handwriting was from before he had arthritis. It was neat and in perfect cursive written with one of his many quill pens he always insisted he needed more of. I remember him talking to his wife saying "I'm telling you dear, nothing is better than a new feather to clean the cobwebs of your mind and let the ideas flow." Then she'd let him get one and say it was still ludicrous as she kissed his cheek. A part of me had always wished for that with someone.
    Thinking of my uncle, I realized there was one person who might know about what's going on; my aunt.
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"The world will come to a halt, all facing the error of their ways. Turning on their leaders and spreading Anarchy through the streets. Fire reigning down towards buildings and my monsters consuming the souls of. . . well, all they please."
    Bream sat in a throne bathed in red and obsidian, legs tossed over one arm of the chair and back facing the other; his head tilted back across his folded crossed arms. His throne was in front of a large glass window where a wall would be and outside the world was on fire. The sky an ugly, deep red and the ground a dark brown. It was as if everything that had once been had been submerged in mud and the fires of hell. Demons and monsters lurked among the souls of the people there and all screamed in pain and agony of their once blessed lives.
    Bream looked towards the table in front of him. It wasn't unlike a chess board in design, but it's purpose was unknown to all but him; some parts, even unknown to him-he would never admit this, of course. He used this board to control the realm he claimed, the one that surrounded him and all his creations of torment in a hell-like fire.
    Bream furrowed his brow and slammed his boots down in front of the chair, "it isn't enough." He glared at the other end of the table where a ghost-like creature floated. Its' face contorted into a nervous smile that seemed to be permanent.
    "What. . . whatever do you mean sire?" the creature's shrill voice rang out. "I- I did all I could! Honest! It's just. . . I can't hold anything. . . especially not the attention of someone like," his voice went lower and in an almost disgusted tone uttered "them."
    Bream held his glare, but then broke into a laugh. He smiled and looked at the creature, "you know, my wife is one of them. . . what does that make me?" He picked up three dice and rolled them across the back of his knuckles, leaning forward and watching as the creature trembled at what to say next.
    "M-my king. You are m-mightier than I. . . Yes! With no doubt better than I." He smiled the best he could and looked at Bream with almost a pleading look. Bream matched his gaze and rolled one of the dice. The die went flying across the table and landed in front of the ghost; a one portrayed.
    Bream tsked at the creature and smiled in an evil manner, "you don't believe this." He chuckled and continued rolling the other two dice. The creature started floating slowly away from the table, eyes still locked with Bream's.
    "S-sire." He shrieked, "I meant no trouble. None at all. You are stronger than us."
    "But do you believe it yourself?" Bream narrowed his eyes. His dastardly smile growing larger by the minute. Bream suddenly snapped his fingers and the doors slammed shut behind the creature, making him freeze. His smile faded "answer me. Now."
    "My king," the creature froze. He knew what Bream was doing and that he could die if he didn't answer correctly. He gulped and continued; "Sire, with all due respect, you could not take on all of us at once. If we decided to overtake you at any moment, I feel we stand a chance. The darkness. . . the darkness cannot last forever."
    Bream flicked one of the dice off of his knuckle and it flew forward just short of the first dice. It teetered, yet, once again displayed a one. The creature shrieked as the table opened and fog poured out, covering the floor of the room. All he could see from the other side of the table was the silhouette of the chair. The fog surrounded him and Hands clasped his ankles.
"Sire! Sire! I answered correctly! I was truthful in that's what I think! You can't call it a lie if it is what I see happening!" Bream suddenly vaulted onto the table and walked to hover above where the creature now laid; struggling to be free of the hands' grasp.
"Your opinion. . . was not all you gave." He smiled and rolled the die and it landed on a six. "The darkness. . . those I possess. They can't rise against us...no." His eyes met the creatures as a dark figure rose from out of the middle of the table behind Bream. His eyes red and figure almost that of a man. " Our darkness. . . will last."
The dice flung to all different directions of the room and the darkness overtook the trapped creature. Bream jumped down from the table and walked to the window as the dark figure ate the creatures soul; leaving the body to be dragged below my the nearly mummified hands and disappear. The figure collected itself and rose again in a human shadow like figure. It turned to face Bream.
Bream spoke, looking still to the window, "you know how to change this don't you?" His eyes darted to the shadow; "you know how to open the centuries door." The figure was motionless as its eyes focused on Bream, looking as if it had no plans on going back into the table. Bream turned fully to face the shadow. "I want to see. . . I want to know everything you do. . . I need to open that door."
The shadow was again motionless. Feeling almost pointless, Bream started for the door.
"What will you sacrifice for those you need?"
Bream paused and looked back at the figure. It had transformed into a copy of him. He closed his eyes and muttered "everything."
The darkness took this as permission and a cold chill hung in the air. The darkness swiftly overtook Bream and entered through his eyes and mouth. Taking over every part of Bream for a split second; almost as if claiming him for his own. Bream dropped to his knees as the last of the creature had slipped into his mind. The figure, once on the table, now whispered in the back of Bream's mind:
"We. . . will. . . rule."