- Created By cazzmataz
Guys, if you havent read the prologue to my story, please do! I haven't had any feedback yet and I'd love some...
That sounded so whiney.
Phone phone phone got a new phone phone phone new phone me phone new got one. Sorry I'm excited. I updatedto an Android... from my BRICK. Not even kidding. Now Imma go through theO and find the perfect wall... THEY WORK ON MY PHONE! Its awesome. But Im annoyed I cant get on Planet 3. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHECK MY CREDIT. Gah.
So, turns out the community chat is blocked on the school internet... *shakes fist at education*
Fair enough. But still.
So guys, this is the prologue to my story that I'm trying to write... It's completely original, not a fanfic. I've had this idea for ages, and thrown out soooo many drafts, but Imma try and stick to this one. This prologue relates to the antagonists. This is mostly unedited, so I'm happy for suggestions and feedback ^-^ Okay, hope you like it!
The candelabras flickered as the cloaked figure stalked past them, making the shadows on the damp stone dance like wraiths. Something was dripping in the distance, the only noise that echoed through the empty tunnel. Even the man’s footsteps made no noise.
Minutes of walking stretched into hours, hours into an eternity. The man began to wonder if he had been mistaken. He was not tired- he was never tired- but he was becoming increasingly frustrated. Even a man with an eternity to spend did not appreciate his time being wasted.
Just as he thought the tunnel would never end, that it was some elaborate hoax he had fallen for, the darkness began to abate. The shadows slithered away from the light, and the man stepped into what he would call a hall- except for the fact that the entire thing was carved from stone, just an extension of the tunnel. It was really more of a cavern, lit by candelabras on the walls and torches scattered over the ground.
For such a huge space, it was fairly empty.
Two large staircases- stone, like everything else- clung to the opposite sides of the cavern, leading up to a corridor that ran around the entire perimeter. Three thrones jutted out of the stone floor in the far reaches of the back of the room, cloaked in shadows. In each perched a figure, as still as the stone that everything seemed to be carved from.
They would have commanded his attention, if not for the woman that lie on the table (stone of course; everything seemed to be authentic here) in the centre of the room. Looking like a fallen angel cloaked in a white dress, she was sprawled unnaturally on the table, squirming in uneasy rest. The man felt his heart drop in his chest.
“Doubt, I presume?” boomed one of the figures as they rose from their throne. Although, “boomed” didn’t really seem to be the right word to use. Could a voice so petite, so delicate, “boom”? Still, her voice rang with a power that sent a chill down the man’s spine- or perhaps it wasn’t the power, perhaps it was the pure and unbridled venom that saturated every syllable that came out of her mouth.
“Wendell Doubt, at your service, Miss…?” Wendell said, bowing low. No doubt this person was egotistical. Anyone who ever hired him usually was.
The woman didn’t tell him her name, only laughed. It was a beautiful chiming, like a bird’s singing, but it was every bit as malicious as it was hypnotically beautiful. The other two who flanked her sides rose as well.
Together, they began to approach Wendell. The way they walked- no, floated, rather- towards him in perfect synchronization sent a chill down his spine. A sense of foreboding filled every inch of his body, and he realised coming here today had been a mistake.
The other two, who had not spoken yet, were both taller than the woman, but it was hard to tell if they were male or female- all of them wore black cloaks that shrouded their bodies completely, turning them into living shadows.
“So? Can you do it?” This voice was deep and impatient, and clearly a man’s, coming from the figure to the left of the woman. He did not sound nearly so powerful- no doubt from his large build that he had strength to spare, but he did not have the same commanding aura that the woman did.
The other still held their silence.
Wendell approached the woman on the table. Even impending death had not drained all the beauty from her features. Her long sandy hair fanned out, hanging over the sides of the table. Skin that had no doubt once been beautifully pale had now turned sallow, and a dramatic weight loss had deepened and darkened her eye sockets. Her eyes were closed, as if she were protecting the last part of her that might still be perfect from the clutches of illness.
In her uneasy sleep, she murmured, and her back arched, lifting her off the table for a moment. Wendell felt guilt claw its way into his ribcage. This woman needed rest.
“I can,” Wendell murmured to the three across the table from him. He looked up at them all, eyes wide. Their faces were hidden under their hoods, but he still felt like he had to look at them, to show them his sincerity. “But I beg of you, please reconsider. This is a dangerous realm you are crossing into.”
The woman waved one hand in a flippant manner. “Are we paying you for a lesson on morals?”
“No, ma’am,” he murmured.
“Hurry up then and show us, we need to see what you can do,” thundered the impatient man. Was everything he did loud?
The last figure still kept their silence. It was slightly creepy.
Wendell almost laughed. In his line of work, how could he be fazed by someone being unusually quiet?
“Go on then!” The woman had begun tapping her foot. The impatient tap tap tap echoed around the cavern.
“Step back,” Wendell said with no infliction in his voice now. From this moment on, it was purely business.
They all did as he asked, and Wendell took a deep breath. Drawing a knife from his belt, he scratched at the stubble on his chin. It had been a while, and he was nervous. What if something went wrong?
He berated himself, and took another breath. Closing his eyes, he plunged the knife into the woman’s heart.
For a moment, her eyes flickered open, and she gasped in pain. Her eyes were a lovely green, like spring grass. Wendell felt the icy fingers of guilt clench somewhere deep in his stomach.
She had been beautiful. What else was he taking away from her? A life? A family? It had been too long since he had done this. He had lost his uncaring edge.
The dying woman’s eyes fluttered shut again, and she gasped in a last, shuddering breath before her chest fell still. At least the easy part was over.
With his hands still on the knife, Wendell began chanting. Ancient symbols, written in the language of the fay, began to spread up his arms. If the dress were not covering her chest, the runes spreading out in the opposite direction, from the woman’s heart, would have been visible.
The symbols danced across both of their bodies, until their skin looked like a tangled mass of tattoos. Wendell began to chant faster, and a bead of sweat popped up on his forehead. Whether it was from strain or nerves, he wasn’t sure.
The words were in fay, but Wendell knew what he was saying. No one else would, but his own words could haunt him as he muttered them to the air and marred his soul.
Brush away the guilt and sin of life, for Death shall never hold you in his icy grasp. Forever shall you be a lost soul, belonging to neither this world nor the next; your soul shall move on, but your mortal body shall remain bound to this world in chains of bone and pain. Rise, creature of the darkness. Sleep is not for the wicked.
Wendell repeated his chant, every word coming out of his mouth slicing like a knife into his heart. It was too late now, though; this woman was already doomed.
The symbols that adorned them began to slowly glow red and fade. Fire burned through Wendell’s veins; his body had grown used to the magic, but he still felt like he was tied to a pyre every time he tapped into it. Holding back a scream of agony as the fire intensified momentarily, Wendell gritted his teeth.
The woman on the table, not being quite so accustomed to the agony, let out a piercing wail. So, at least it was working. But whether this was a good thing was still debatable, in Wendell’s mind. One of the figures chuckled deeply, and a shiver ran down Wendell’s spine.
Suddenly, the wailing stopped and the symbols all faded away until they were but thin white scars that would forever mark the sin that Wendell had committed today – and what his victim was now doomed to be.
Slowly, as if she was underwater, the woman on the table sat up. Blood still ran down her front from the wound in her chest. She looked at it curiously, as if she had no idea how it got there.
Her head snapped around to Wendell, and she snarled inhumanly. He did not flinch, only raised a hand. As if fearing being struck, the woman cowered, whimpering softly like a dog.
“Is she dangerous?” asked one of Wendell’s hooded employers quietly. He was still too shaken to figure out which one. Perhaps the quiet one had finally broken his silence.
“Incredibly so,” he replied softly, “and most likely completely unpredictable.” He took a few steps back from the table, looking at the blood on his hands. “But she’ll obey you three, and I.”
“Anyone else?” asked the female.
“She’ll be mostly indifferent to anyone else, unless you… instruct her not to be.”
“A trained guard dog,” the big, impatient one said, laughing maliciously.
“Not exactly.” Wendell squirmed uncomfortably. “Under pressure or in emotionally unstable environments, she’ll probably turn on anyone and anything. They feed on negative energies. And in a feeding frenzy…”
“She’ll go crazy,” the silent one concluded.
“In so many words, yes.”
Three bags of gold dropped onto the table in front of the undead woman. Her eyes strayed to them with curiosity. “Your reward,” sighed the hooded woman, as if she were bored. “I suppose we can rely on you to be a regular employee from here on in?”
“What?” exclaimed Doubt, his head snapping up from his hands. “No, it was just this once. I promised myself I’d never do it again, I…” He quickly grabbed the gold and turned for the door.
Within a matter of seconds, the woman was in front of him, her hand firmly on his chest. “There’s more gold in it for you.”
So she’d discovered his weakness- his greed.
“No, I can’t. I really must be going, it’s a long walk out of the tunnels and if I don’t get out before morning-“
“Listen,” she interrupted. Wendell felt something cool and sharp press against his throat. She’d drawn a knife incredibly quickly- inhumanly quickly. “You either continue working for us, or you never work again at all.”
“I…” The knife pressed harder against Wendell’s throat. He gulped, and as his Adam’s apple moved a small droplet of blood began to run down his neck. The knife was definitely not blunt, that was for sure. “Fine.”
“Good boy,” she crooned, but the knife didn’t move from his throat. “Now I’ll have to send my accomplice here,“ she motioned towards the big man with her free hand, “up to the surface with you to collect your things, as you’ll be living on the premises with us from now on. Just to make sure you don’t make a bolt for it. And remember,” she giggled, leaning in towards his ear, “if you do run, we will find you. There is nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide. We will find you, and kill you. And if you do, I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful- to make up for any disloyalty.” She drew the knife away from Wendell’s trembling throat and winked at him.
As he watched her saunter back towards her throne, Wendell rubbed his throat, his breath shuddering. This was not a woman to be messed with.
Like my new avi guys? Many thanks to Hanako Sho for this little bit of beautifulness.