Ones own demise

[Moping 403]

Spoiler

 

 

 

Illthrak lay mellowly in his bed sleeping soundly, then suddenly he heard a voice. The voice was a meer whisper, “My Prince?” the voice would rise in volume, “My Prince?” He would then suddenly feel his body being shaken by someone's grasp ”My Prince!” Illthrak’s eyes finally opened, but he was not in his chambers. His gaze was faced down, he quickly realized he was in the heights of the palace looking down upon the ashes of Leyu’sil, a few buildings still ablaze but the city was mostly destroyed. Illthrak’s expression was dumbfounded, a meer moment ago he was in his chambers, and now, and now this ”What, what has happened?” his voice wavered as the words left his lips. His gaze then went toward the one who was shaking his arm, he would immediately recognize them as the noble Nefeli Py’lrie ”Are you ok?” - “They are withdrawing now” Nefeli told Illthrak, stepping back, he looked behind her witnessing a large gathering consisting of many he would recognize as nobles, civilians, as well as many wounded Celiadiraar. 

 

”Who is attacking us?” He muttered in a disoriented tone his eyes still set upon the injured “What do you mean? It is the —----” He had seen her lips move but heard no words. His confusion intensified as he strode toward the location where the defence was held, walking past the dozens of bodies many he would recognize ”Sylvir, Hurin, Illarion, Renna'' He whispered the names of the fallen he knew, his pace hastening through the palace he would mutter more of those whom he recognized, “Mathi, Iolas, Laerdya, Valindra'' The list of the dead he has seen grows with each step through the palace, only for him to finally halt at the base of the palace gates. ”Is this, My fault?” He asked aloud, more to himself than those who may have followed behind.

 

His mind was in shambles, it shook, his eyes jittered around everywhere witnessing death each direction his eyes shot, a body he did not recognize coming into view, he would walk up to get a closer look and once his gaze was on the face of the enemy.

 

 He saw nothing. Nothing at all.

 

A faceless face, a body without recognition, and the more he looked the more he saw. The faceless enemy was everywhere, amongst the bodies, that of his very own was strewn all over the palace. His concern and confusion grew each moment he witnessed something new ”Was this me?” His voice shook once again, his feet now guiding him beyond the city gates, each pace he walked the bodies piled higher and the people began to blend in with each other, simply making piles of dead upon dead. Suddenly as Illthrak walked by the vineyards of Celia’nor, he saw the faceless dead begin to rise, their heads turning and following him with a soulless gaze, before he was surrounded by walking dead men. None of which he could focus on, all were a 

 when he attempted to look upon them. Their eyes, and mouths twisted into an amalgamation as they walked.

 

Before he could react, he was surrounded by countless bodies bearing no face. Suddenly, one spoke, ”Do you not recognise us?” The dead spoke in an eerie unison, now surrounding Illthrak. A chorus of cursed laughter left each of the dead’s mouths once more, sharing haunting words, ”You do not expect yourself to be your downfall, and yet you are.'' The faceless body emphasized to Illthrak, his expression growing far more confused as he looked at the countless bodies encircling him, ”How was this my fault?” The prince replied as the bodies remained around him. Their empty eyes felt cold on his body, their presence heavy on his soul, all the bodies he saw each began weighing on his soul, the Royarch spewed out another question to the dead ”What have you done?” Following the question the bodies laughed hysterically. Unfaltering, Illthrak remained steadfast as his head swivelled watching these deadman act, they would respond once the cacophony of laughter came to an abrupt end. ”You mean what WE have done.” Each face of the dead around him began to take shape, and as Illthrak set his silver gaze on the faces his expression contorted, flashing between that of stunned, terrified, confused, disbelief. So many thoughts flooded his mind as he saw the face of the dead bore. It was him, he was the dead who mocked him. ”Cat got your tongue? Can you not accept that your own neglect has led to this?” The dead continued, ”Pathetic” they called out with a disgusted tone on their lips, the feet of the doppelgangers stepped forward, encroaching on Illthrak in the middle. “And the Wheel keeps on turning~” it sung in an almost sing-song-like manner.

 

 The prince trembled, they approached and yet he could not act. He was stunned, shaken to his core, unknowing of how this could have happened, how this was his fault, his mind was thinking of all he had done, all he could have done to cause this. An endless loop of thought held him hostage, frozen as each of these bodies encroached on him, all such drawing blades nearing distance to strike. Still, the Royarch’s mind was in shambles, with nothing to focus it on, he searched for the answers to the questions he asked within himself, but none came. Until something lit up the horizon, a glaring light, Illthrak covered his face once he had seen it. All dead now focused on the light that drew ever close to them. A few moments later it could be seen, a great Silver Phoenix flying across the sky towards them, towards him. The Phoenix would peer down at the gathering, the mighty bird’s gaze locked upon Illthrak for a moment, at this moment something stirred in him, something deep inside the depths of his soul, inside the very fabric he was made from, he then felt something, something warm, this warmth began to fill his body, then a voice, he could not hear it per se, but he could feel it within him, in his blood, as if it was programmed, engrained to his very being, these commands, orders, directives, told him one thing

 

 “Do not falter”

 

 This mantra echoed, for a seeming eternity as it rang out for him, as he heard this, and felt it, he came to. The Phoenix then lifted itself back up, soaring straight over Celia’nor and toward the west.

 

Illthrak looked now around him once again, the dead bearing his face still standing around him, before suddenly they all began to draw blades. He saw this occur and knew he could not stand idly, even in the face of certain doom mere odds could not vanquish the feeling he had before. With no hesitation, Illthrak drew his Truesilver talon. The longsword’s silver blade gleaming in the darkness, he suddenly stepped toward the enemy as they drew their blade, his slash would aim for their heads taking two of them with a single blow, the others now took another step toward the Royarch, a smile apparent on the fiends faces as they were cut down, now the Prince turning to the other foes as they closed in on him, he had little chance of winning, and yet he perseverance persisted, and yet his expression was enthused, thrilled even, he felt reinvigorated, his soul was re-entwined with himself and his predecessor’s, his will would not waiver any longer. They advanced towards The Royarch, Illthrak made a brisk step toward the closest enemy swinging his blade from low leaving a clean slash across the chest of the dead, then he felt a sting in his shoulder, and his head swiveled to the right where he felt such a pain, a long blade was wedged in him, his expression remained the same, his will also resolute, Truesilver talon then found itself taking the head of the one who harmed Illthrak, his body then began to sting in many other locations, his gaze shifted once again now down to his body. It seems he was too slow, the enemy blades were sticking through Illthrak, his time was nigh, he knew it, and yet his will did not waiver,

 

 It did not falter.

 

 He swung his sword ahead of himself, slaying three more, before his gaze caught a glimpse of a blade approaching his head. Illthrak then sat up, but his confusion was apparent on his face. He was no longer battling but in his chambers, drenched in sweat and freezing, the ashes of Embers filled his nose. He looked at his hands and his body, no wounds befell him, but he could not forget he would not forget. He remembered all from his dream, for how could he forget? He pondered for hours upon hours staring at the ceiling of his room as his mind trailed off, one memory was imperative to remember, 

 

Do not falter
 

 

[Punished_Pup 1364]

A Blackened Orb vanishes from her grasp, as she comes to a stand..

[milksoda 719]

Somewhere, a multicolored Primarch stared toward a wheel - looking upon it from the side. . .It was not shaped like a wheel anymore.