To Devour One's Wings

[grand_kervall 3]

To Devour One’s Wings

prepared by CountJuno88

 

http://youtu.be/YYzzOJuS7Lo

 

As the relentless storm of hail and snow continues to fall upon the frozen wasteland within the boundaries of the North, a lone silhouette of a hooded Elf traverses the tundra. Passing over ridges and frozen outcrops, he approaches the site of that which has called for him. The last challenge of his pilgrimage leads him to the bridges of thickened ice that have been been formed between towering pillars of stone over the centuries. As he crosses the final bridge, he enters an aged cavern lined with the glistening blue glow of the native Thaunhic ore.

 

With one hefty sigh, he gazes upon the rays of light as he exits the cavern. At first, he is baffled by how the North could become so calm at a moment’s notice, but for now, he is more absorbed in the sight of what surrounds him. The bones of drakes lie scattered across the frozen plain he stands upon. He journeys ever onward. A seemingly cold and unconcerned expression upon his face. Extending an arm, he grasps at what appears to be the collarbone of one of the fallen beasts. He gazes upon the cold ivory with a stern gaze as he contemplates what meaning this might hold for him.

 

 

His hand leaves the remains and finds its way to his chest right below his own throat. A single tear rolls down his cheek as a mighty howl of wind fills the valley. He shudders as a great shadow forms on the ground below him. “So,” he mutters to himself, “this is what becomes of me, is it? Is it true that no good deed ever goes unpunished? Is this the just reward I earn for attempting to bring freedom to imprisoned, tormented souls? Compassion hath earned an iron noose…”

 

His right eye twitches once as a giant, winged creature slams into the ground before him. A great flurry of ice and snow flies into the wind as the mass of flesh and wings settles upon the frozen earth.  In a last moments attempt of comfort, the robed figure stretches his hand into the air, palm upward, and rotates it clockwise once. A feeble orb of light forms upon the palm of his hand as he brings it to rest before his face. “Remember me, oh blessed light…” He manages to get out before a hot gust of wind shoots forth from the snout of the beast extinguishing the Elf’s final grasp of hope.

 

“An immortal soul...but still so fragile…” The creature growls whilst letting out a deep, dark chuckle from from deep within it. “You are weak,” it continues, “but I can temper you into something far greater.  Only I can grant you true freedom. Only I can free you from this torment. Do you not wish to be free?”

 

The Elf’s right eye twitches once more as he comes to meet the gaze of the mighty Draakar. “Do what you have come to do. I… I have heard your whispers in my mind ever since I first touched the thoughts of your servant. Free me of this madness. I no longer know where my mind ends and the other thoughts begin. It is...more than I can bare…” He shudders as he falls upon the packed snow beneath him pulling his robes around him as if trying to collect as much warmth as he possibly can in this, his darkest hour.  As he surrenders himself to fits of sobbing, he manages to sputter out, “Aeriel...hast thou abandoned me?”

 

 

“Poor...feeble...creature…” The great beast mutters in a mocking growl. “You are unworthy of the potential held within you. You deserve it not, but that soon will no longer matter. I make perfect that which is flawed for I am perfection. There is none greater than I. There is none more ancient or wise than I. Your mistress that you call out to in desperation...she is nothing compared to the countless ages that I have seen come and go. She cannot save you...only I can. And I...will...not...” The dragon finishes with a roar of laughter that spews a blaze of blackened flames high into the chilled night sky. The tint of the fire washes over the broken form of the elf as he stares blankly out across the valley.

 

“The blessed tree lives on...hope shall never die…”

 

The elf wraps his arms around himself.

 

“All shall burn...I am the only hope that you shall have…”

 

The dragon begins to crawl slowly towards his prey.

 

“She is with us until the end of days...her light shall deliver us in the end…”

 

A single tear falls to the snow.

 

“I am time itself...you shall be eternally mine…”

 

The crunch of snow grows ever nearer.

 

“Her warmth shall never abandon us…”

 

A quiet sob echoes throughout the valley.

 

“My fire shall consume your soul…”

 

A deep, haunting growl grows louder and louder.

 

“I shall never...never...I...I feel…”

 

“...cold...”

 

The elf utters not a cry nor sound as the fire of the dragon consumes him. His eyes are fixed upon the small orb of light that he managed to conjure up in his folded hands before his final moments. As his body begins to turn to ash, the orb slowly fades until it finally blinks from existence. The light is gone. The fire ceases. All is silent. There is only cold.

[501warhead 1796]

A figure walking through an arcane place suddenly stops, his pace halted. He turns his hooded face, veiled in darkness, to his right and then his left, before looking over his shoulder. Noticing nothing he moves onward about his business, but shaking his head he knew rest would not come easy tonight...