- Joined
- Sep 29, 2011
- Messages
- 119
- Location
- The Dark Recesses of Spacetime
- Website
- chronicum.wordpress.com
“No…”
“Not this again…”
“This dream…this nightmare…”
“I can’t bear to see it again.”
An elf wizard, barely past his 200th year, had his hands outstretched in ritual, lips moving too fast for comprehension in the muttering of a magic incantation. He was completely surrounded in a swirling cone of darkness, a living shadow that was twisting and weaving shapes, dancing demoniacally all around the elf.
His garb was clearly that of the Order: a tunic sharing the colors of charcoal and scarlet, suede pants tucked deep into knee-high boots, leather gloves that reached his elbows, and a single, black cape hanging from his shoulders to touch the ground and sweep around his form. His hair was of the purest platinum-blonde, part of it plaited into two thick braids visible on the right side of his face, the rest of pulled back by a crown of leaves and cascading down to rest at his mantled shoulders. His eyes were gleaming, a stark amber, glistening with passion for the art he was commencing.
As he continued to mutter the words to his magic, the darkness began to slowly take form. From within the shifting cloud, thousands of glowing eyes, sickly yellow and alive with hunger, broke through the shadow as the only form of light in the area. However, they were of no comfort as they came with increasing speed to the elf’s location, a light of rapacity that wanted nothing but to consume the wizard calling them to his place.
From the eyed darkness, talons of quivering liquid shadow erupted and inched closer and closer to the muttering elf, the latter unresponsive to the approach of the deadly weapon. The darkness began to brush against his skin, frozen and bereft of life, causing the elf to mutter much faster in what almost seemed like an erratic chant. The elf waved the darkness away and continued to cast, but the shadow only dissipated for a moment and reformed to continue its steady approach. The mass of black fluid emanating from the wall of swirling darkness took the shape of a partial elf form with tendrils extending from its head like tentacles, before reaching out with its talon and touching the elf’s chest.
The elf shook with a sudden spasm, face wrenched in pain as he clutched his chest. From his reaction, it appeared that the elf could feel a riveting discomfort at the location of his heart. The elf’s body shuddered with a strange unnatural palsy, forcing the elf to scream in agony as he felt the feeling fade from his body. From his chest where the dark talon had submerged itself into, a globe of iridescent energy was removed, taken from the elf’s chest and slowly floating under the guidance of the dark talons. It was a bright light that briefly hid the darkness away, but was immediately consumed by the cloud.
Then all went black…
Aiden launched from his night coverings, roaring in fear as he sat upright struggling for breath. His brow was slick with the perspiration of terror. Taking a moment to relax as much as he could, he cursed for losing self-control. This vision of his was a recurring event for him during his sleep, something that bereft him often of the rest he desired. Today would mark the day of the third moon that he had been suffering from this vision, and each and every day became harder for him as he struggled with exhaustion.
Try as he might to subdue it, the nightmare was slowly taking over. He felt more and more connected to the blonde-haired elf in the dream, this time actually witnessing the dreaded event in the wizard’s point of view. He feared the worst: stories of elves cast into eternal sleep from wicked visions were all too fresh in his mind. He nodded to himself in silent confirmation, face furrowed and stern with the decision of a new course of action. He needed help.
Reluctantly removing himself from his place of rest, he gathered his clothing for the new day. He selected a long sleeved jerkin worn by the elves during the beginning cold of the harvest season. Maroon was his favorite color, thus he made sure to select a drape that would match that particular color to hang from his belt over his baggy suede pants. His boots were unique, painted and featuring an ornate design of leatherwork done by someone other than those employed by Ashra. The boots were an heirloom of his currently absent parents, thus Aiden wore them to remind him that they were not gone from his world, merely missing after the great battles between his race and the wicked Essewein family.
The air was brisk, slow to take warmth from the approaching rays of sunlight cast from the canopy of brilliantly white Waylan trees coiled and seemingly woven into each other in a protective enclosure around the city. Aiden wasn’t bothered by this morning chill, curiously aware that he wasn’t shivering normally as would be the common reaction to such cold. Instead, he was rather warm, and Aiden ended up putting off the phenomenon as something minor attuned to his magical ancestry.
Magic was of his family, but was something he had little concern in. Despite his bloodline connection to wizardry and the Crimson Sigil, it was his greatest dream was to one day leave his home city of Ashra and follow the lineage of his father, a citizen of the capital city and court of the Queen of the Elves. It was there he wished to be enlisted into the Aubrien corps, the elite band of archers given duty by the Queen to protect the forest realms of its often mad inhabitants.
Aiden smirked as he envisioned himself one day as an Aubrien archer. He made slow-motion movements, role-playing the action of drawing a arrow from a quiver and pulling an imaginary string. When he put down his arms, he jumped back from the open doorway, startled by the sudden laughing of Malaki, who was observing the young elf's curious reenacting of the Aubrien method.
“I believe it will take quite more than acting to get you to the capital city, let alone pass the Queen's test. First you have to remember timeliness. Are you waiting for next year's ceremony?”
The question hung in the air unanswered as Aiden took a small moment to recover from his embarrassment. When he was content, he only offered a glance of confusion towards the guardian elf, who folded his arms in subtle disappointment.
“The Moon Harvest?”
Aiden gasped as he recognized that one of the most important civil events of Ashra's culture was today, and he had spent more time than he needed to trying to get prepared for the day. Without a word to Malaki, he rushed into the washing room to get ready for the ceremony.
As the collected rainwater washed over his tense body, he relaxed from all the tension from his experiences during the night. He was worried. Not only was the dream causing fearful nights, it was beginning to instill some amnesia. He had no regard for this important event, not remembering to prepare for it the night before. He shuddered at the thought of forgetting important events to the influence of this vision. What more would the strange premonition take from him?
He swiftly dried himself and made his way back to his chambers, pulling the jerkin on and attaching the drape to the belt as he tucked in the pants into his painted boots. He pulled back the matted, twisted locks of hair that were commonly worn by the males of Ashra in a tight willow band, leaving two of his tresses to act as bangs on either side of his face. In them he strung amber beads, two on his left and one on his right.
He nodded as he was satisfied with his appearance, taking the bridge of Waylan planks lashed together to join his chambers with the mainhouse. When he emerged from the opening into the foyer of his dwelling, Malaki was seen, leaned against the table in apparent impatience.
“They are going to start without you.” He said bluntly.
“Patience is a natural attribute, Malaki.” Aiden replied with a sarcastic smirk.
“As is respect.” Malaki retorted.
“A two-way road, eldest.” Aiden said.
“Move whelp, before I make you.” Malaki stood up from his lean against the wall, moving forward in a threatening jest, suggesting the action of harm.
Aiden only laughed as he left the home of his guardian, inwardly grateful for every moment they spent bonding with one another. The irritable, silver-tongued elf may not know it, but it was these small moments that released Aiden's fears of the night, and of the recurring vision it held for him. He could barely remember the moment that Malaki had made the decision to take the elf into his home, after it was determined by the Ivory Council that it seemed that neither of his parents were to return home from the front with the evil magic of the life-stealing Esseweins.
He had made it down the levels of walkways that would take him to the center of the village, where the initiations would begin. To outsiders of the elf world, Ashra was nothing but a complex web of living structures, but to those born in the city, walking from dwelling to the main village was impressively simple, a pattern integrated into every young elf born of the Waylan trees. As he took a walkway to the right of him, the sounds of the forests beyond rose through the trees in orchestra, leading Aiden to absent-minded thoughts, filled with depressing ideas.
“Aiden!”
The familiar voice rang like a bell, dispelling Aiden's despondence, causing him to grin from ear to ear. As he turned, his assumptions were confirmed as the fleet form of a girl came running to him, attempting to catch him off-guard by an affectionate embrace from behind. Unfortunately for her, Aiden had turned around, and the two were thrown to the ground by the force. Both bursting in laughter by the event, they stood up and shared an appropriate hug, the girl's face bright red with embarrassment for being so clumsy.
“Aiden, it's great to see you.” She said, recovered from her stumble.
“I share the same feelings as well, Alassë.” Aiden said, with a formal elven bow towards her.
She smiled, and then walked forward down the path that Aiden was taking.
“I'm so excited for the ceremony! It'll be my first time as a member now.”
Aiden grinned, excited for her. She was referring to her enlistment into the militia group of Ashra, the all-female fighting force of Warriors that prided with the complete defense of the city from the outsiders. Their name was so well known throughout the forest realms that the Queen found it nonsensical to send the Aubriens to protect the Waylan forests and the Llomvar Mountain.
“..and we get to go together.” A point she emphasized by interlinking her fingers into his hand, striding down the walkway the same pace that he was going. He couldn't stop smiling.
They walked in silence, enjoying the serenity of the moment. As Aiden was gazing at the beauty of the ivory barked city, his eyes fell upon an obscured figure that was standing on a dead-end of a walkway that extended from the nether regions of the city, behind the settlements. His back was turned to the couple, head up gazing at the sky in observation. Aiden's blood ran cold.
“Aiden, what's wrong?” Alassë asked, concerned with Aiden's sudden involuntary appearance. His hand had dropped, all confidence had left him, and his face was wrought in discomfort and the tell-tale signs of fear. The Warrior stopped and put a hand to his face, drawing his attention away from the walkways to her. He gazed into her deep blue eyes.
“Are you okay?” She asked, the tone of care prominent in her ringing voice.
“...yes. It seems I've forgotten something back at Malaki's domicile. Go on ahead without me, because I don't want you to miss the initiation.” He quickly kissed her on the cheek and let go of her hand, turning back the way they came.
She didn't want to dispute Aiden's sudden change of reaction, deeply concerned for the shift in his emotions. First he was elated, happy to be with her as she was with him. But immediately it was erased in a sudden dread, filling Alassë's thoughts with the worst conclusions. She turned down the walkway hesitantly, occasionally turning over her shoulder to see Aiden heading back up. When he was out of sight, she turned her way and made it to the agora of the city.
Aiden waited till he knew Alassë could not see him. When he was sure she was far down the path, he went back, taking quiet steps as to not alert her someone was approaching. He came to a narrow coiling turnoff, taking the steps down to the back area where he saw the mysterious stranger.
The closer he neared the drop-off point, the more his head hurt. His heart pounded in his chest with apprehension. There was no way it was possible, but he swore he had seen something that others would deem him mad for. It was the reason why he was afraid to let Alassë know what he had just seen. It took some time before he could acquire her affections, and it was not something he was going to lose on a hunch.
He struggled to breathe with the increasing anxiety. This was truly madness. Either he was mistaken, or delirious with the lack of sleep. For he was completely certain, that the mysterious stranger that was standing on that dead-end observing the sky, was the elf wizard he had been seeing in his visions.
“Not this again…”
“This dream…this nightmare…”
“I can’t bear to see it again.”
An elf wizard, barely past his 200th year, had his hands outstretched in ritual, lips moving too fast for comprehension in the muttering of a magic incantation. He was completely surrounded in a swirling cone of darkness, a living shadow that was twisting and weaving shapes, dancing demoniacally all around the elf.
His garb was clearly that of the Order: a tunic sharing the colors of charcoal and scarlet, suede pants tucked deep into knee-high boots, leather gloves that reached his elbows, and a single, black cape hanging from his shoulders to touch the ground and sweep around his form. His hair was of the purest platinum-blonde, part of it plaited into two thick braids visible on the right side of his face, the rest of pulled back by a crown of leaves and cascading down to rest at his mantled shoulders. His eyes were gleaming, a stark amber, glistening with passion for the art he was commencing.
As he continued to mutter the words to his magic, the darkness began to slowly take form. From within the shifting cloud, thousands of glowing eyes, sickly yellow and alive with hunger, broke through the shadow as the only form of light in the area. However, they were of no comfort as they came with increasing speed to the elf’s location, a light of rapacity that wanted nothing but to consume the wizard calling them to his place.
From the eyed darkness, talons of quivering liquid shadow erupted and inched closer and closer to the muttering elf, the latter unresponsive to the approach of the deadly weapon. The darkness began to brush against his skin, frozen and bereft of life, causing the elf to mutter much faster in what almost seemed like an erratic chant. The elf waved the darkness away and continued to cast, but the shadow only dissipated for a moment and reformed to continue its steady approach. The mass of black fluid emanating from the wall of swirling darkness took the shape of a partial elf form with tendrils extending from its head like tentacles, before reaching out with its talon and touching the elf’s chest.
The elf shook with a sudden spasm, face wrenched in pain as he clutched his chest. From his reaction, it appeared that the elf could feel a riveting discomfort at the location of his heart. The elf’s body shuddered with a strange unnatural palsy, forcing the elf to scream in agony as he felt the feeling fade from his body. From his chest where the dark talon had submerged itself into, a globe of iridescent energy was removed, taken from the elf’s chest and slowly floating under the guidance of the dark talons. It was a bright light that briefly hid the darkness away, but was immediately consumed by the cloud.
Then all went black…
Aiden launched from his night coverings, roaring in fear as he sat upright struggling for breath. His brow was slick with the perspiration of terror. Taking a moment to relax as much as he could, he cursed for losing self-control. This vision of his was a recurring event for him during his sleep, something that bereft him often of the rest he desired. Today would mark the day of the third moon that he had been suffering from this vision, and each and every day became harder for him as he struggled with exhaustion.
Try as he might to subdue it, the nightmare was slowly taking over. He felt more and more connected to the blonde-haired elf in the dream, this time actually witnessing the dreaded event in the wizard’s point of view. He feared the worst: stories of elves cast into eternal sleep from wicked visions were all too fresh in his mind. He nodded to himself in silent confirmation, face furrowed and stern with the decision of a new course of action. He needed help.
Reluctantly removing himself from his place of rest, he gathered his clothing for the new day. He selected a long sleeved jerkin worn by the elves during the beginning cold of the harvest season. Maroon was his favorite color, thus he made sure to select a drape that would match that particular color to hang from his belt over his baggy suede pants. His boots were unique, painted and featuring an ornate design of leatherwork done by someone other than those employed by Ashra. The boots were an heirloom of his currently absent parents, thus Aiden wore them to remind him that they were not gone from his world, merely missing after the great battles between his race and the wicked Essewein family.
The air was brisk, slow to take warmth from the approaching rays of sunlight cast from the canopy of brilliantly white Waylan trees coiled and seemingly woven into each other in a protective enclosure around the city. Aiden wasn’t bothered by this morning chill, curiously aware that he wasn’t shivering normally as would be the common reaction to such cold. Instead, he was rather warm, and Aiden ended up putting off the phenomenon as something minor attuned to his magical ancestry.
Magic was of his family, but was something he had little concern in. Despite his bloodline connection to wizardry and the Crimson Sigil, it was his greatest dream was to one day leave his home city of Ashra and follow the lineage of his father, a citizen of the capital city and court of the Queen of the Elves. It was there he wished to be enlisted into the Aubrien corps, the elite band of archers given duty by the Queen to protect the forest realms of its often mad inhabitants.
Aiden smirked as he envisioned himself one day as an Aubrien archer. He made slow-motion movements, role-playing the action of drawing a arrow from a quiver and pulling an imaginary string. When he put down his arms, he jumped back from the open doorway, startled by the sudden laughing of Malaki, who was observing the young elf's curious reenacting of the Aubrien method.
“I believe it will take quite more than acting to get you to the capital city, let alone pass the Queen's test. First you have to remember timeliness. Are you waiting for next year's ceremony?”
The question hung in the air unanswered as Aiden took a small moment to recover from his embarrassment. When he was content, he only offered a glance of confusion towards the guardian elf, who folded his arms in subtle disappointment.
“The Moon Harvest?”
Aiden gasped as he recognized that one of the most important civil events of Ashra's culture was today, and he had spent more time than he needed to trying to get prepared for the day. Without a word to Malaki, he rushed into the washing room to get ready for the ceremony.
As the collected rainwater washed over his tense body, he relaxed from all the tension from his experiences during the night. He was worried. Not only was the dream causing fearful nights, it was beginning to instill some amnesia. He had no regard for this important event, not remembering to prepare for it the night before. He shuddered at the thought of forgetting important events to the influence of this vision. What more would the strange premonition take from him?
He swiftly dried himself and made his way back to his chambers, pulling the jerkin on and attaching the drape to the belt as he tucked in the pants into his painted boots. He pulled back the matted, twisted locks of hair that were commonly worn by the males of Ashra in a tight willow band, leaving two of his tresses to act as bangs on either side of his face. In them he strung amber beads, two on his left and one on his right.
He nodded as he was satisfied with his appearance, taking the bridge of Waylan planks lashed together to join his chambers with the mainhouse. When he emerged from the opening into the foyer of his dwelling, Malaki was seen, leaned against the table in apparent impatience.
“They are going to start without you.” He said bluntly.
“Patience is a natural attribute, Malaki.” Aiden replied with a sarcastic smirk.
“As is respect.” Malaki retorted.
“A two-way road, eldest.” Aiden said.
“Move whelp, before I make you.” Malaki stood up from his lean against the wall, moving forward in a threatening jest, suggesting the action of harm.
Aiden only laughed as he left the home of his guardian, inwardly grateful for every moment they spent bonding with one another. The irritable, silver-tongued elf may not know it, but it was these small moments that released Aiden's fears of the night, and of the recurring vision it held for him. He could barely remember the moment that Malaki had made the decision to take the elf into his home, after it was determined by the Ivory Council that it seemed that neither of his parents were to return home from the front with the evil magic of the life-stealing Esseweins.
He had made it down the levels of walkways that would take him to the center of the village, where the initiations would begin. To outsiders of the elf world, Ashra was nothing but a complex web of living structures, but to those born in the city, walking from dwelling to the main village was impressively simple, a pattern integrated into every young elf born of the Waylan trees. As he took a walkway to the right of him, the sounds of the forests beyond rose through the trees in orchestra, leading Aiden to absent-minded thoughts, filled with depressing ideas.
“Aiden!”
The familiar voice rang like a bell, dispelling Aiden's despondence, causing him to grin from ear to ear. As he turned, his assumptions were confirmed as the fleet form of a girl came running to him, attempting to catch him off-guard by an affectionate embrace from behind. Unfortunately for her, Aiden had turned around, and the two were thrown to the ground by the force. Both bursting in laughter by the event, they stood up and shared an appropriate hug, the girl's face bright red with embarrassment for being so clumsy.
“Aiden, it's great to see you.” She said, recovered from her stumble.
“I share the same feelings as well, Alassë.” Aiden said, with a formal elven bow towards her.
She smiled, and then walked forward down the path that Aiden was taking.
“I'm so excited for the ceremony! It'll be my first time as a member now.”
Aiden grinned, excited for her. She was referring to her enlistment into the militia group of Ashra, the all-female fighting force of Warriors that prided with the complete defense of the city from the outsiders. Their name was so well known throughout the forest realms that the Queen found it nonsensical to send the Aubriens to protect the Waylan forests and the Llomvar Mountain.
“..and we get to go together.” A point she emphasized by interlinking her fingers into his hand, striding down the walkway the same pace that he was going. He couldn't stop smiling.
They walked in silence, enjoying the serenity of the moment. As Aiden was gazing at the beauty of the ivory barked city, his eyes fell upon an obscured figure that was standing on a dead-end of a walkway that extended from the nether regions of the city, behind the settlements. His back was turned to the couple, head up gazing at the sky in observation. Aiden's blood ran cold.
“Aiden, what's wrong?” Alassë asked, concerned with Aiden's sudden involuntary appearance. His hand had dropped, all confidence had left him, and his face was wrought in discomfort and the tell-tale signs of fear. The Warrior stopped and put a hand to his face, drawing his attention away from the walkways to her. He gazed into her deep blue eyes.
“Are you okay?” She asked, the tone of care prominent in her ringing voice.
“...yes. It seems I've forgotten something back at Malaki's domicile. Go on ahead without me, because I don't want you to miss the initiation.” He quickly kissed her on the cheek and let go of her hand, turning back the way they came.
She didn't want to dispute Aiden's sudden change of reaction, deeply concerned for the shift in his emotions. First he was elated, happy to be with her as she was with him. But immediately it was erased in a sudden dread, filling Alassë's thoughts with the worst conclusions. She turned down the walkway hesitantly, occasionally turning over her shoulder to see Aiden heading back up. When he was out of sight, she turned her way and made it to the agora of the city.
Aiden waited till he knew Alassë could not see him. When he was sure she was far down the path, he went back, taking quiet steps as to not alert her someone was approaching. He came to a narrow coiling turnoff, taking the steps down to the back area where he saw the mysterious stranger.
The closer he neared the drop-off point, the more his head hurt. His heart pounded in his chest with apprehension. There was no way it was possible, but he swore he had seen something that others would deem him mad for. It was the reason why he was afraid to let Alassë know what he had just seen. It took some time before he could acquire her affections, and it was not something he was going to lose on a hunch.
He struggled to breathe with the increasing anxiety. This was truly madness. Either he was mistaken, or delirious with the lack of sleep. For he was completely certain, that the mysterious stranger that was standing on that dead-end observing the sky, was the elf wizard he had been seeing in his visions.