Al stood, instant and stark, he knew, he knew his sister would never let any harm come to the prize possessions their late parents had bestowed upon them. He stood there silently, only wavering in body alone, heart still, once more, as still as the grave. Al walked, staring simmering holes into the wood of his hovel. A timber support approached in kind, Al twisted his arm back, hammering purple, bandaged knuckles into frayed coarse lumber. Again, he stuck, each moistened crunch followed by a pitched wailing scream, both pained emotionally and physically. Cries tore themselves up from his gut, all the way out his bruised neck. He punched and punched before Darton rose swiftly, snaking limbs under the distressed man’s heated ribs, the captain squeezed, embracing Al in a tightened hug.
“Stop, STOP! This won’t, this won’t bring her back… This doesn’t solve anything.” Darton stopped, before Al continued through choked little mews, “I wasn’t… I wasn’t there… She must have been so scared… and I couldn’t protect anyone… they’re all…” Albatross slid to his knees, battered hands coming to his trailing eyes, salty mist streaming from puffed scarred sockets. “You can’t think like that Al, you just can't, it’s not your fault, we… We all did our best… there was nothing more we could have done, I’m sorry.”
Al lifted his head slowly, following the captain’s words, he used his bandaged elbow to shakily wipe the grime, sweat, and tears that marred and glistened against his darkened skin. Two figures, Al and Darton, both stood, still and sullen in the low honey light of the warrior’s rickety hovel. Two pairs of eyes staring down, boring into sawdust covered floorboards, as the stillness deepened.
“Uh” Darton broke the ice wall “the mage just left… I made sure to thank them for you, so don’t worry, they headed off North towards the capital… weirdly they didn’t ask for anything in return… seemed like good people.” Darton finished kicking his boot lightly, while averting gaze. Al stood stiller, somehow a stature, no longer wavering on screaming knees, a cloud descended over the wounded warrior.
Flashes of purple, screams, a kaleidoscope of swirling streaming cool oceanic colors, mixed with Warlock’s vitriol. Bellowing roars, curdled from the creature’s gaping maw, rows upon rows of yellowed, orange, rotting teeth all lined its infinite maw. Just then the darkness was broken, the endless army of rotting death which marched upon their home was vanquished in a flash. From the rolling tide shone out, a levitating figure, long white beard flowing from their undulating robe, pale hands cascaded in brilliant godly light. A sight to behold, a true wizard, clearing the sky of darkness with one clap, simmering cursed flesh with a mere gaze, a human with the power of the gods, so wise and strong they feared nothing and protected everything. Al shot his glazed eyes over to the letter that still sat upon the table under the window, and he shook his head trying to clear the waking dreams from his muddled mind.Mysterious voice “Did you know he was there?”, other mysterious voice “yeah, he’s been following us for a couple of days now, actually, he’s been following ever since we left that little town.” Other, other mysterious voice “don’t ya think it was a little dangerous to let him do that, let him just follow us like a lost puppy?” Other, mysterious voice “Oh please… look at him, I mean, he’s just a soldier boy, nothing to worry about, I don’t think the apparitions would send an assassin so… weak.” Other, other mysterious voice “true I suppose, still a dangerous stunt though.” Other mysterious voice “Ahhhhh lighten up a little, have some fun every once and a while will ya?”
Voices swam through the scarred boy's head, crushing vice like pressure pulling and prodding his skull, a pinch of pain traveling up the base of his neck. Dirt caked his nails, but yet he continued, through a foggy, milky haze, consuming both mind, body, and soul. Burning light gradually coming into view, the boy dragging and flopping his body over the precipice of the forest opening, collapsing face down in the dry dusty shale, producing an off red cloud of clay and stone. Gray clouds gradually settled around him, fingers going limp, as Al’s sword dropped next to him, a sight, he appeared like a corpse primed for the grave.
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