Hello readers. This is my current project I'm working on. If you don't understand after reading it, this world is in complete night, and nobody feels love. I hope you enjoy it. Please tell me what you think.
Forward:
Spoiler
(0)
Forward
The night is an intoxicating time; a time when nothing is absolute. Words once spoken loudly become but whispers that barely leave ones lips. Happiness gradually fades into the back of ones minds, and fear ravages ones thoughts like a lethal poison. Darkness is merely a tool of the night. It smothers ones senses and answers all questions with questions. The only thing that keeps one alive in such a time is the faint memory that at the end of every night there is dawn, and light to wash away the misconception.
Love is an intoxicating feeling; a feeling that controls both the body and the soul. It blurs the lines between reality and dreams until they are the same. Love destroys things once perceived as beautiful and recreates them into something far for majestic than before. It breaks the strongest and places the weakest on top. Nothing is predictable when love is thrown into the mix. Nothing is safe.
Imagine a world twisted from its original course. A world, where night is all there is. Darkness is always present. Senses are always blurred and questions are never answered. Whispers resound through the night, pondering the condition of the present and the future. Whether or not the night will ever be taken by light is unknown, as is the certainty of life and existence. Not only does this world wonder aimlessly in endless night, it lacks the feeling that holds the weakest together, love.
Everything is done to survive. Lives are lost and forgotten. Lives are taken and forgotten. The world is practically void of all emotion because love is the basis of all feeling. Without love, there is no hate, happiness, or even sadness. There is just an endless search for an answer that can not be found. The world is dark, and dangerous. It is full of peril and death. I warn you- enter only on the brightest of the days- or even you will be engulfed be the night.
Forward
The night is an intoxicating time; a time when nothing is absolute. Words once spoken loudly become but whispers that barely leave ones lips. Happiness gradually fades into the back of ones minds, and fear ravages ones thoughts like a lethal poison. Darkness is merely a tool of the night. It smothers ones senses and answers all questions with questions. The only thing that keeps one alive in such a time is the faint memory that at the end of every night there is dawn, and light to wash away the misconception.
Love is an intoxicating feeling; a feeling that controls both the body and the soul. It blurs the lines between reality and dreams until they are the same. Love destroys things once perceived as beautiful and recreates them into something far for majestic than before. It breaks the strongest and places the weakest on top. Nothing is predictable when love is thrown into the mix. Nothing is safe.
Imagine a world twisted from its original course. A world, where night is all there is. Darkness is always present. Senses are always blurred and questions are never answered. Whispers resound through the night, pondering the condition of the present and the future. Whether or not the night will ever be taken by light is unknown, as is the certainty of life and existence. Not only does this world wonder aimlessly in endless night, it lacks the feeling that holds the weakest together, love.
Everything is done to survive. Lives are lost and forgotten. Lives are taken and forgotten. The world is practically void of all emotion because love is the basis of all feeling. Without love, there is no hate, happiness, or even sadness. There is just an endless search for an answer that can not be found. The world is dark, and dangerous. It is full of peril and death. I warn you- enter only on the brightest of the days- or even you will be engulfed be the night.
Chapter 1(1)
Spoiler
Evil Never Dies
The eyes were dark as night. They remained still, and resembled congruent jewels glistening fervently. In a twisted sort of way, they were beautiful. They symbolized the fear and turmoil of the entire world, yet they glowed with an enticing light. How could something so evil be so beautiful?
The face behind the eyes was cruel. With jagged jaw and cheek bones, it appeared to be a skull with skin stretched thinly over it. The nose was sunken and deformed, as were the ears. The whole face was barely distinguishable and completely inhuman.
The body below it was weak, and sickly. Sack cloth clung to it in rags, but uselessly as the creature itself did not feel the icy chill the world felt, for it was the source.
A man stood across from the creature. He stared at it and his expression revealed no emotion, as he felt none. Dark hair clung to his face moist with sweat. The creature returned his stare, a thin pale tongue slipping in and out of its mouth.
“You are just as bad as the rest,” the creature spat, spittle spattering onto the man’s calm face. The creature’s voice was cenacle, and its tone was wispy and weak.
“Every man is at wrong in his own,” the man returned. His expression remained undeterred.
“You are just as vile, and disgusting as the worst. The fact that you are human does not change anything. Your soul will be damned to the same place mine came from. The only thing that separates me and you is that I have chosen my fate, and you remain undecided,” the creature said. Its eyes were like endless pools of darkness.
“You have chosen your fate-yes, which is why you are here,” the man stated, and retrieved a folded parchment from his robes. “You have been charged with the onslaught and murder of innocent civilians, as well as the practice of dark magic. You will be hung at the gallows as a public symbol of our views against Haet and his followers.”
The creature remained silent and then a low rumble escaped its mouth, gradually evolving into a full cackle.
“Death only claims the living Theon,” the creature roared, and then its voice turned into a low whisper,
“But, I will not prevent you from your human practices. It has been a while since I’ve felt any real pain. Just you wait, your world will crumble just as easily as the rest. ”
˙˙˙
The creature’s eyes were dull now, void of their previous glow as it hung lifeless by the neck. It swayed slowly in an invisible breeze, blowing its stench away into the city. A few citizens gathered at the base of the gallows gazing up at the body. They murmured to each other about times when such bodies numbered in the dozens, and when the stench lingered for weeks on end. One of the viewers remained silent, still pondering over what the creature had said to him. Theon wrapped his cloak tightly around him, distorting the military insignia on it. He could not help but wonder if the creature was right. What if he was just as bad as the rest? The threats of the Haetirs grew more and more disturbing. They spoke of a change that would destroy the world forever, and the arrival of their leader Haet.
Theon turned away from the scene, and began to walk away. A voice called after him.
“Diedi Theon! Hold!” the voice called. Theon registered frantic footsteps and he turned around slowly. A messenger boy ran up to him, pounding hard on the cobblestone road and breathing heavily. “A message from Lord Geonargi sir. He wishes your company for dinner,” the boy said.
“Tell him I am honored,” Theon replied, dropping some coins into the boy’s hands, and turning away. Still the warning of the Haetir echoed in his mind.
˙˙˙
The dining hall of Lord Geonargi was a legend. It was said that chandeliers of pure diamond dangled above the table covered in gold linen, and that the food itself was to die for. Theon sat at the table now, wondering if the rumors were true. The ceiling stretched far above his head, creating an illusion of an endless sky. Warm carpet covered the floor, plush and thick as the mane of an Orgarian horse. The walls were covered in tapestries and paintings. Some of them depicted wars of long ago, and others of the Lord himself.
Theon waited patiently for the Lord to arrive and eyed his reflection in the wash basin. The water distorted his face but his signature features remained: his pale blue eyes, and wavy brown hair, along with his strong jaw and coy smile. The water rippled completely disturbing the reflection. Theon glanced up, and immediately jumped to his feet.
“Diedi Theon at your service my Lord,” Theon said, and saluted. Lord Geonargi stood at the far end of the table and smiled warmly, motioning for him to sit. The Lord was an ancient man. White hair spilled out of under his crown down to his shoulders. His face was kind, but only so because he never fought the wars he waged. Many people hated Geonargi because they thought he was a decrepit old man. Theon did not fully understand the man either. He appeared to be week, yet he had forged such an immensely powerful civilization.
“My dear Theon, do you ever age?” Geonargi wondered aloud, still smiling.
“I am told that I appear older than I am,” Theon answered.
“Life takes its toll is different ways,” Geonargi concluded, and finally sat down across from Theon, “I hear that you executed another Haetir.”
“Yes, a scouting party found it in an abandoned barn on the outskirts of the city,” Theon replied lowly.
“Ah, good work. I hope that our effort against them is fruitful,” Geonargi said. He unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. Slowly, he looked up and clapped his hands, “Shall we eat?”
Servants rushed into the room from various entrances carrying platters of steaming food. The smell was overwhelming and as they set them on the table and uncovered them, Theon stared in disbelief. He had never seen so much food in his life. There was venison, potatoes, bowls of freshly cut fruit, and even food he had never seen before. Eagerly they began to eat.
“I must say, I have never tasted such wonderful food,” Theon complimented.
“You are one of few,” Geonargi replied, and took a deep sip of wine. The two men ate merrily together, exchanging pleasantries. Unfortunately they were soon full, and the food was carried away. “Theon, there is war brewing in the south,” Geonargi said, his eyes narrowing, “It seems that the warnings of the Haetirs are proving truer that most of us guessed. People are becoming insane, slaughtering anything in sight. Even as we speak, I am receiving reports of sightings of Haetir. I did not invite you here just to eat, Theon. You’re here because I trust you. I want you and ten of your most skilled men to retrieve information about the doings in the south and report back to me.” Theon looked at his ruler and nodded his head.
“Right away,” Theon replied.
The eyes were dark as night. They remained still, and resembled congruent jewels glistening fervently. In a twisted sort of way, they were beautiful. They symbolized the fear and turmoil of the entire world, yet they glowed with an enticing light. How could something so evil be so beautiful?
The face behind the eyes was cruel. With jagged jaw and cheek bones, it appeared to be a skull with skin stretched thinly over it. The nose was sunken and deformed, as were the ears. The whole face was barely distinguishable and completely inhuman.
The body below it was weak, and sickly. Sack cloth clung to it in rags, but uselessly as the creature itself did not feel the icy chill the world felt, for it was the source.
A man stood across from the creature. He stared at it and his expression revealed no emotion, as he felt none. Dark hair clung to his face moist with sweat. The creature returned his stare, a thin pale tongue slipping in and out of its mouth.
“You are just as bad as the rest,” the creature spat, spittle spattering onto the man’s calm face. The creature’s voice was cenacle, and its tone was wispy and weak.
“Every man is at wrong in his own,” the man returned. His expression remained undeterred.
“You are just as vile, and disgusting as the worst. The fact that you are human does not change anything. Your soul will be damned to the same place mine came from. The only thing that separates me and you is that I have chosen my fate, and you remain undecided,” the creature said. Its eyes were like endless pools of darkness.
“You have chosen your fate-yes, which is why you are here,” the man stated, and retrieved a folded parchment from his robes. “You have been charged with the onslaught and murder of innocent civilians, as well as the practice of dark magic. You will be hung at the gallows as a public symbol of our views against Haet and his followers.”
The creature remained silent and then a low rumble escaped its mouth, gradually evolving into a full cackle.
“Death only claims the living Theon,” the creature roared, and then its voice turned into a low whisper,
“But, I will not prevent you from your human practices. It has been a while since I’ve felt any real pain. Just you wait, your world will crumble just as easily as the rest. ”
˙˙˙
The creature’s eyes were dull now, void of their previous glow as it hung lifeless by the neck. It swayed slowly in an invisible breeze, blowing its stench away into the city. A few citizens gathered at the base of the gallows gazing up at the body. They murmured to each other about times when such bodies numbered in the dozens, and when the stench lingered for weeks on end. One of the viewers remained silent, still pondering over what the creature had said to him. Theon wrapped his cloak tightly around him, distorting the military insignia on it. He could not help but wonder if the creature was right. What if he was just as bad as the rest? The threats of the Haetirs grew more and more disturbing. They spoke of a change that would destroy the world forever, and the arrival of their leader Haet.
Theon turned away from the scene, and began to walk away. A voice called after him.
“Diedi Theon! Hold!” the voice called. Theon registered frantic footsteps and he turned around slowly. A messenger boy ran up to him, pounding hard on the cobblestone road and breathing heavily. “A message from Lord Geonargi sir. He wishes your company for dinner,” the boy said.
“Tell him I am honored,” Theon replied, dropping some coins into the boy’s hands, and turning away. Still the warning of the Haetir echoed in his mind.
˙˙˙
The dining hall of Lord Geonargi was a legend. It was said that chandeliers of pure diamond dangled above the table covered in gold linen, and that the food itself was to die for. Theon sat at the table now, wondering if the rumors were true. The ceiling stretched far above his head, creating an illusion of an endless sky. Warm carpet covered the floor, plush and thick as the mane of an Orgarian horse. The walls were covered in tapestries and paintings. Some of them depicted wars of long ago, and others of the Lord himself.
Theon waited patiently for the Lord to arrive and eyed his reflection in the wash basin. The water distorted his face but his signature features remained: his pale blue eyes, and wavy brown hair, along with his strong jaw and coy smile. The water rippled completely disturbing the reflection. Theon glanced up, and immediately jumped to his feet.
“Diedi Theon at your service my Lord,” Theon said, and saluted. Lord Geonargi stood at the far end of the table and smiled warmly, motioning for him to sit. The Lord was an ancient man. White hair spilled out of under his crown down to his shoulders. His face was kind, but only so because he never fought the wars he waged. Many people hated Geonargi because they thought he was a decrepit old man. Theon did not fully understand the man either. He appeared to be week, yet he had forged such an immensely powerful civilization.
“My dear Theon, do you ever age?” Geonargi wondered aloud, still smiling.
“I am told that I appear older than I am,” Theon answered.
“Life takes its toll is different ways,” Geonargi concluded, and finally sat down across from Theon, “I hear that you executed another Haetir.”
“Yes, a scouting party found it in an abandoned barn on the outskirts of the city,” Theon replied lowly.
“Ah, good work. I hope that our effort against them is fruitful,” Geonargi said. He unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. Slowly, he looked up and clapped his hands, “Shall we eat?”
Servants rushed into the room from various entrances carrying platters of steaming food. The smell was overwhelming and as they set them on the table and uncovered them, Theon stared in disbelief. He had never seen so much food in his life. There was venison, potatoes, bowls of freshly cut fruit, and even food he had never seen before. Eagerly they began to eat.
“I must say, I have never tasted such wonderful food,” Theon complimented.
“You are one of few,” Geonargi replied, and took a deep sip of wine. The two men ate merrily together, exchanging pleasantries. Unfortunately they were soon full, and the food was carried away. “Theon, there is war brewing in the south,” Geonargi said, his eyes narrowing, “It seems that the warnings of the Haetirs are proving truer that most of us guessed. People are becoming insane, slaughtering anything in sight. Even as we speak, I am receiving reports of sightings of Haetir. I did not invite you here just to eat, Theon. You’re here because I trust you. I want you and ten of your most skilled men to retrieve information about the doings in the south and report back to me.” Theon looked at his ruler and nodded his head.
“Right away,” Theon replied.
Valentine
