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p - mel
Mornings were always uncomfortable in the Dampwoods. Humidity would often pierce through her bones and articulations, allowing a series of tremors to wash over her. The madwoman was stuck in a state of lethargy, unable to differentiate reality from illusion. It was odd, really. She had no control over her body, almost as if someone else had the power to decide what she could, or couldn’t do. Opening her eyes seemed impossible at this point. To the outside world, Lillith’s inner battle was characterized by the rapid twitching of her eyelids and an accelerated respiration.
She was stuck within the confinements of her own twisted mind. The visions had multiplied ever since her encounter with the archangel. The news of Ahren’s death had unnerved her in a way that she could not comprehend. No matter how much she tried to ignore the bastard, he just kept on coming back. He was there all the time, whispering things into her ear. Often enough, she would find herself voicing thoughts that did not belong to her. These incidents brought up questions she’d never asked herself before. Was she insane? Her breathing quickened to the point where she could inhale no more. Then it happened. Her king appeared amidst the darkness and the smell of sulfur filled her nostrils.
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The drug had taken his life long before the fire destroyed his body. All his life Ahren de le Poer had been an addict; addicted to the opiates, and the alcohol. With these as his fuel, his body had been destroyed. His family blood and a disease his son spread shattered his mind. Even the demon that lived within him was the only sentient being left—and he was mad with the desire to infect the world and set it to flame. They had, on that last day, broken through a barrier. Until he had been completely mad, and until he was on the brink of death, Ahren had not known what his mother had done.
It was the demon that came to her, somewhere between the realm of madness and the depths of dreams. He and Ahren had become a singular entity; though until she had returned, under the scent of her blood had come to him, he had been sleeping as the creatures of old. The vision was much like the blonde at his time of death—one blind eye and hair streaked with black. He was grinning, as if he had expected this all along. “Hello Lillith,”a voice that was not unlike his own purred.
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The image was crystal clear, unlike the foggy mist that often clouded her visions. His voice was unmistakable, and the way he had whispered her name was oh-so familiar. She could only stare, clearly fascinated by his presence. Her face displayed a variety of emotions, simultaneously ranging from bitterness to admiration. As much as she wanted to join him, part of her knew that he wouldn’t allow it. So why had he come to her? Her face contortioned endlessly, as if trying to decide whether she should smile or frown.
“You left me,” she said, a hint of accusation lurking behind her statement. There was nothing else to say. No words could describe how betrayed she felt. What were his motives? He certainly hadn’t stopped by just to chit-chat. Her bottom lip quivered and formed a pout. Now she was acting like a child. It was amazing how easily she could jump from one expression to another. “Can I come?” Her voice was innocent, almost naïve. It sounded nothing like it had moments earlier. Insanity was a beautiful thing.
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She was so much so like the sea; her face could not settle and refused to find peace. Her eyes, though, oh her eye were on fire. This was not unlike the blonde’s right eye—red, burning, and vicious. His left, the blind, remained like fog and refused to stay still. “I’m sorry. It was destined.” He advanced, but it was like walking through smoke. All along his arms the scars another dead woman had given him seemed to pull from this and form living spirals around them . “You cannot come with me yet,” he asserted, and let one hand reach out to her face. It touched her cheek gingerly, though his smile was vicious and terrible. “You came here with a purpose.”
Sharply, suddenly, his hand jerked back. It drew blood from her cheek, but just enough to stain his yellowed claw. “I want to tell you my mother’s prophecy,” he spoke clearly, patiently. There was a dire purpose in his words. “It has been put in motion, but I cannot fulfill it.”
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It felt as though she was looking into the jaws of hell. His words triggered something she’d never felt before: fear of abandonment. Bitterness flickered behind her turquoise orbs. Destiny was overrated. They had been destined to do great things; his death wasn’t part of the plan. She hated him for leaving her behind. Amongst the torrential outpouring of hatred, something very similar to affection surfaced. It materialized fully when one of his hands touched her cheek. A whine was drawn from her lips; she yearned to join him in the afterworld.
“No, you’re wrong! My purpose is to be with you,” she ventured, clearly not listening to a single word he was saying. Her eyes were focused on the apparition, but her mind was centered elsewhere. It was only when his warmth left her cheek that she devoted her full attention to him. An ebony hand was brought up to touch the bleeding area, as if she’d been struck. Her movements were sluggish, mirroring her hazy state of mind. He’d felt so real. “Then tell me.”
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Both of his eyes narrowed sharply, and turned vicious, one smoke and one fire. Ahren’s lips pulled back to reveal yellowing teeth, a madman’s twisted snarl. The growl that escaped his throat was unearthly—it belonged not to a wolf, but sounded closer perhaps to a wild-cat or long-dead monster of old. “Your purpose is to finish what she started,” he said coldly, black-streaked hair falling into his face.
“The blood of the wicked must be spilled,” he began, reciting what had been to him a bedtime lullaby. “Through their destruction the new world can be brought about. Through fire and through ice come the trials. The first angel and the first demon will bring about the end of days, the sky will turn black, and the rivers will run red with blood.”
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It was so surreal. His voice didn’t quite match what she remembered it to be; there was a deeper, darker echo intertwined with his words. She’d never noticed it before. Lillith was having a hard time distinguishing reality from illusion; the fine line separating both extremities was thinning out. This was a dream she never wanted to wake up from. His intonation held no warmth; it was distant, practically hostile. She understood then, that he’d never give her what she yearned for. Not even in death.
“A new world,” she murmured absent-mindedly, assimilating the prophecy being recited to her. While Lillith understood the essence of Thavardo’s stratagem, she had no idea where to start. Self-doubt made fulfilling her task much more challenging. She’d been a follower all of her life; a mere disciple destined to assist greater beings. Making decisions wasn’t something she’d done before. “Where do I start? Will you help me?”
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The wolf, the demon, pursed his lips together. No longer was there conscious in what had once been Ahren—the mind had been consumed in the madness of those last days. It was not an act of cowardice that he had ultimately chosen, but one of ultimate choice. Death had been chosen, and welcome. Ahren had known that he was dying long before he had taken his own life. After four years of abuse, his heart could not handle the stress anymore. He had been there to see cancer destroy his father, and he had not suffered this terrible end, but had the morphine and heroin not done its duty, it would have taken less than a season for the clotting in his veins to destroy him.
Ahren was dead. It was a secondary, terrible power that came to her now. He, it, the demon-god who was both blind and mad, he desired to see his work finished. Behind the blind eye, a thousand worlds tumbled in chaos and fog, and the dark lining around the blonde’s eyes narrowed just slightly. Black lips cracked open, ivory-yellow teeth glimmering in a terrible smile. “I will show you the way,” he promised, and moved forward. Without hesitation, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her to the earth. Then, above her, hair spilling into his face, his eyes began to glow without giving off light, as if an unholy fire burned behind them. “You are now the chosen one,” he assured her.
Then his head moved like a viper and went for her throat.
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