The unlikely union of light and darkness.
"My soul is ruined; made of dead stars, and darkness. And yet, you managed to find light in my hollow heart. Beauty in my unholiness. You mended the fissures of my being. And for that, I shall worship you fo...
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BLACK TENTACLES GRASPED at the darkness, its frayed bark coiled and stretched out towards the eternal sky. But the night did not return its embrace, nor did the stars. Instead, bitter air enveloped the limbs; it twirled down their crooked lengths, and violently parted them apart. Yet, the air could not glide into the room below. It hovered...watched...and retreated in horror.
Ominous shadows circled around a long table, heads bowed, and hands clasped in wicked prayer. Like seraphim angels, burning with passion towards an Almighty, they waited for release, waited eagerly for their lord's command. And when it came, in the slight flicker of the candles, they raised their chins, and allowed their eyes to travel to the end of the table.
In silence they remained, undisturbed by the heavy perfume of blood now masking the air; composed in the presence of an unsettling sight- a thin thread of lifeblood swirling above, pulsing and throbbing, sloshing and flowing as though it were still in a vein. For a moment longer, the crimson strand remained suspended in the air, before it gradually seeped back into the vial and gathered into a woven ball. The threads pulsated and glowed a bright red like veins in a heart, but then, abruptly, they dulled and perished before the shadows.
A thicker, heavier silence ensued. A silence which fastened their jaws and lungs, and was only broken when the vial shattered. The sudden blare rang within them like an explosion; their muscles wavered and burned at the sound, forcing air from their mouths. Anxiously, they averted their eyes from the crimson-stained shards, and waited in a limbo of terror.
But when the silence became almost punishing, a timid voice rose from the ranks. "Lord?" Below a carefully composed tone, laid traces of absolute fear. "What has happened? What went wrong-?"
The shadow at the end of the table brought their hand down on the wood with such fury, it splintered into his flesh. "How dare you be so ignorant," he snarled, his dark eyes glinting through the slit of his hood. "It is because of your stupidity that we have lost valuable knowledge!" The shadow rose from his throne, and sneered down at the recoiling figure. "I should break your skull, Verin, and make a pulp of your useless brain,-"
With equal fervor, Avery Verin stood, and fell to his knees. The chair crashed behind him. "Forgive me," he implored, voice curling into a whimper. "Forgive me, my lord. Please-" His words were caught off by a sharp, garbled cry.
Verin's lips twisted as agony flashed across his face, as he gasped and fought for air, as with panicked strain, he clawed at his scalp. The tension, the utter alarm- the desperation that rapidly registered over his features, was enough to wring a few breaths, to trigger strained muscles into movement. It was enough for a voice to spark.
