Tales of the Dark Rose : Drink Deeply

[Ikon]

The sound of stone on stone broke the silence of the cemetery. As the King effortlessly opened the stone doors that led down into the mausoleum, Ranth looked around uncertain of how this was playing out. He had never in all of his remembering had any reason to doubt the king. Never once had he steered him wrong, yet something ominous in the secrecy and location of this made his hairs stand on end.

Through labyrinthine corridors the king led him deeper and deeper into the ancient halls of death. The air was dank and thick with the smell of moist earth mixed with the sickly sweet scent of rot. The king’s fiery blade illuminated the scenes carved into the walls. Stories played out as they passed. Piece by piece Ranth vaguely made out the plot of a young Satyr and his war band that followed a great and noble king against the depredations of the Shadow Court.

For what seemed like miles the two walked wordlessly letting the light of the king’s sword dance upon the raised features of the carved stone. Causing the shadows themselves to animate, bringing the stories to life. After a while the tales of nobility turned to great and bloody battles. He could clearly make out the marks and tell tale signs of house Balor and the grotesque and unyielding Thalain. Then in a great and climactic battle the King who had led his armies to so many victories disappeared. Stolen, killed or worse Ranth could not tell. Only that the army began to dissolve, lacking leadership.

The fate of the war band was much worse. Not a single one of them had fallen in battle to the enemy. Slowly one by one they were torn apart by a traitor. Ranth was mesmerized by what played out before him, then as he was on the precipice of knowing what had happened to the hero in the story, the stone became less and less defined as if the Mists itself had chosen to keep some questions unanswered.

‘We are here.’

The king said echoing through the halls as he approached a final massive door at the end of the long journey. One door was of the blackest marble as if it had been spawned by the night itself. The other was a porcelain so pure that it reflected the light of the fiery sword back upon them as if the sun itself had awoke to greet them. Sensing the presence of the one they were meant for the twins opened not making a sound.

The king led him into a vast and empty room. Empty of everything save for a rough hewn stone alter in the center. Ranth stopped moving, he didn’t like the way this looked at all. Looking back he saw that not only had the doors closed but that they had somehow vanished. Ranth reached for his blade but it was missing.

‘Trust me, Amaranth.’

The king said with all of the power his station brought to him. Ranth struggled against the power of the king with every dark urge that he had. He found that fighting the sovereign strength of the king’s art was as fruitful as a mountain defying gravity.

‘This isn’t personal, you understand?’ The king explained to him, as he forced him to approach and lay upon the altar. ‘I have to look out for the good of my people, and my kingdom. Let’s face it Amaranth you are simply no good for it or anyone.’

The Dragon produced a clear flask filled with a thick and viscous looking liquid which seemed to fight against it’s container even as he struggled to regain his own will. With little ceremony the King placed the draught in Ranth’s hands.

‘Drink’

Terror filled him as he brought it to his lips. A stray though crossed his mind as the ice cold yet burning fluid filled him. Is this how helpless his victims felt, now for the first time he not only knew the answer but he was surprised to know he cared.

Slowly at first the ever faster he felt himself begin to dissipate. Ranth’s flesh began to break off in motes of dust and ash which filled the air. His mind began to lose the ability to sense his own disillusion as he burst into nothingness one final time.

[Ikon]

‘NOOOOOOOOOO’ Ranth woke screaming. The thick film of sweat covered him and slowly dripped down his face. He struggled to catch his breath and after a few moments he eventually did so. Once he managed to regain a little composure he wiped the wetness from his face, only to find his fingers dyed a darkest crimson. Quickly the truth of his situation shot into focus. The tangy yet familiar coppery taste filled his mouth; his hair was matted with what seemed to be an endless amount of blood and fresh, deep cuts covered most of his body. The only answer that came to his mind was that he had fought so hard in his nightmare that he had ripped himself apart.

Ranth sat up at the edge of his bed, using his nightstand to support himself. His fingers became entangled in a sticky, tattered, bloody web that lay strewn across the tabletop. As he examined it closer he realized that it wasn’t a web at all.

‘Wings…. Butterfly wings…’

Ranth fell off the edge of the bed. Wood floors slick with fresh blood made it difficult for him to regain purchase.

‘nononono’ he said as he clawed his way to the limp body now in his vision.

Holding one of the only people he ever cared about in his arms Ranth screamed with a primal hatred towards himself. Unexpectedly for the first time in his existence he finally understood the pain and suffering that he had brought on so, so many. With a lighting quickness he grabbed her hand, still clutching her favored blade, and thrust it deep into his raging heart.

[Ikon]

‘NOOOOOOOOOO’ Ranth woke screaming. The thick film of sweat covered him and slowly dripped down his face. Quickly he wiped his face in terror of what he would find. The sweat was thick and reeked of fear but was in the end little more that sweat. He looked around at his empty room, thankfully he sat and sobbed all alone.

***Note: These event's took place on December 18th Ranth has not been seen nor heard from since earlier that day.***