Heya. Sorry I haven't been updating my other stories (FireWind Chronicles, Hero Eternal), but I'm finding it hard to write them. So, to tide you over, enjoy this random piece that is loosely related to my ongoing saga about Flames:
Alone in the Void
The dark wind howls out in anguish, clawing at the barren earth, determined to make its presence known. A pair of burning eyes narrow as the wind continues, its howl becoming a roar. The lone figure sighs and slowly makes his way across the bleak, barren landscape, his movements somewhere inbetween those of a limp and a stride; determined yet clearly restrained and injured.
Naught but emptiness engulfs him as the empty sky looks down upon him, colourless and featureless save for the dark red hue that had steadily infiltrated this bleak landscape. All that still stood besides the figure was a ramshackle house, little more than a seemingly-abandoned hut. There was nothing else here but barren wasteland and the lake of blood that was once the sky, despite what he yearned for. Even the wind soon gave in to the invisible darkness that had gripped this world, the roar being replaced by a deathly, deafening silence; the only proof that remained that the wind had existed at all was a few strands of orange fur out of place on the figure, who had paused for a moment, mourning the death of the wind as one would mourn a close relative. His only companion here had given up and succumbed to the darkness too, leaving him alone once more. He glanced down for a moment before setting his gaze on the hut, mentally pulling himself back together.
Thud, thud, thud. Every step was felt rather then heard as the cracked, faded remains of his once-glorious crimson armour rattled, threatening to fall off at any moment. The stench of death infiltrated his nostrils once more, a stench now all too familiar in this wasteland. His blade landed on the earth with a resounding clang as he gritted his fangs together, the sound like a thousand nails being hammered into his skull. Thud, thud, thud. Every step brought him closer to the hut, the last object standing, a kindred spirit who also had not submitted to the destructive forces of the Universe. A hot, metallic taste danced on his tongue, burning his senses with what was unmistakably the flavour of blood. His body felt worse than dead to him, the agony an eternal volcano of anguish and sorrow, assaulting every inch of his being.
Only one thing remained the same as it had 15 years ago: those blazing crimson orbs of his, so full of determination, of hope, of promises that remained to be fulfilled. His tail had lost its joyful swing, his steps had lost their grace, his fur had lost its shine and his voice was as good as gone, but those eyes still hadn’t gone; they had seen an eternity’s worth of suffering and still they had refused to surrender. It was with those eyes he saw his heavily scarred paw reach for the door and push it open. It was with those eyes that he drunk in the sight of his small, yet cosy home. And…it was with those eyes that he wept bittersweet tears of joy at the smiling faces that greeted him.
A fire roared cheerfully to his right, the stairs in the corner bore the scars of recent reconstruction and the ceiling that had once been falling apart had been reinforced with various assorted items. It may have looked unusual to most, but it only added to the comforting atmosphere of the building, as odd as it may be. Such details paled in comparison with what truly mattered: the people he had risked everything for. The people who had turned the stench of death to the enticing scent of cooked chicken, the ones who had replaced the intolerable sound of silence with the music that was joyous laughter, those few that had replaced the excruciating pain of endless suffering with the light touch that was friendship and love.
No longer would he fight, no longer would he endure the elements or the harsh punishment the divine ones had created to amuse themselves. No…He was free from their grip, free to live his own life at last; after an eternity of protecting his important people from the apocalyptic hordes, after seeing things that made Hell seem safe and calm…No more.
Words were exchanged, people were hugged, laughter echoed and all thoughts of the darkness outside vanished, forever lost to the mists of time. These people were his light in the dark, the beings in his heart, his bed on which to rest, the moon in the night, the sun behind the clouds, they were his purpose, his meaning of life. United here in the hut that had refused to be destroyed, the one safe haven, and this symbol of determination…it was here that the suffering ended and the armour was finally removed, for he needed it no longer. The war was over, he was home.
