01-13-2016, 11:46 PM
Silence.
It lingers here in the confined forest that is pushed off into the side of the meadows. The trees that stand so close together, rise up as one, stretching out their branches and casting a shadow across the forest undergrowth. A familiar fog intertwines itself through the trees and around her. There is an eeriness among the forest as it is nothing but still – nothing with a beat of life seems to exist here. Yet, she is here, her heat beating against her chest quietly in this eerie silence around her.
She embraces herself in the cold and darkness. Here in the middle of the forest, where she stands, the memories are fresh. The mare can recall the memories so easily, tasting the pine needles and feeling the heartbeat underneath here. Lucrezia lingers here because it is the only thing that makes her feel alive. She surrounds herself with the familiar pine tree scent, but they are not the Chamber’s own forest she grew up knowing. She surrounds herself in a mist that does not cling to her like the fog that comes from the mountains near her old home. She listens quietly, in the ever silence, to the heartbeat in her chest as she tries to make herself believe it is the same one that thumps against the Chamber’s earth.
It is nothing though.
The Chamber is nothing but a long dead memory attached to something she once used to be. She should’ve been someone. Maybe like her father, Rodrik, or her queenly sister, Straia. However, in the Deserts, she was someone. Lucrezia had been given a purpose in the sandy kingdom – a reason she was meant to be there. It had not been for the duty her father said it was. No, it had never been that. She was someone there. Someone who could be proud to say where they had come from. She is simply nobody now. Another soul wandering through life with desperation and desire. She needs something more than ever. Anything to make her feel like someone, or who she used to be.
Death.
The scent fills her nostrils quite suddenly. Lucrezia turns her head, searching through the group of trees and shadows that surround her. Her nutmeg eyes flicker slowly but quickly. The scent of death is quickly becoming overbearing. The soft padding of hooves against the forest floor is just behind her. She knows when she turns she will meet the gaze of death. The presence of the darker force is strong around here, or maybe it is merely the scent of a decaying body that overwhelms her severely. She turns her head anyway to face the demon. It is because she is not afraid of whatever it is. It is because she is brave.
But she shouldn’t have turned her head.
He stands there – the devil himself. He is strung together barely by the bones and muscles. Cartilage, ligaments, and tendons are the only things that sew him together. Rotten flesh hangs in strips and patched chestnut fur dots all over his body. The stallions’ eyes are sunken, hollowed, and lifeless. There is a hunger that fills his eyes, but she knows those eyes all too well. The tiny bit of nutmeg color remaining in his eyes gives it away easily. “Father,” she whispers softly but it doesn’t sound like she is speaking at all. Her voice is too quiet. The devil hears her though, by the flickering of his ears in her direction. “Lucrezia, my little girl,” his raspy voice expels out from his lifeless, decaying body.
Silence draws between them both. And then she hears the faint sound of bells.
The world begins to flicker around her. Lucrezia blinks a couple times. The image of her father’s corpse fades away from her vision. No, she thinks and blinks frantically. Her father is completely gone now. A deathly silence falls around here. “NO!” Lucrezia screams into the haunting silence as the world begins to flicker back into view.
The bells chime again in the silence. Her nutmeg eyes flicker across where she stands. It is still the same place where she was. Her father gone though. Nothing has changed it seems, but she is no longer truly where she was. Her eyes search through the shadows and trees. As she takes a closer look at the trees she notices they aren’t quite the same. The trees are dull and listless. She does not see the sun breaking through the branches or leaves of the trees. The wind does not stir either. This was not Beqanna. It was entirely something else.
Lucrezia hears the bells grow louder, demanding her attention in the direction they come from. “Come… You must come now.” It is a request, a demand from the voice that calls her she somehow cannot resist. A voice like her own father’s, one that demanded duty but filled with love. It is a lie though; however, she follows the sounding of bells that insist her to come. Lucrezia is blind though to notice this is perhaps a trap, but her thoughts are only set on one thing – her father.
There are others that follow as well. Four other mares and one stallion to be exact. She knows nothing of who or where they come from. However, she smells two of pine and mist. A scent of home that she cannot resist to let her nutmeg gaze linger for a moment longer. The black and white filly and stallion are surely from the Chamber but then Lucrezia shouldn’t make such assumptions. She is somewhere that looks and feels like Beqanna. A dream of some sort? She does not know, but only knows that these bells keep getting louder and it feels like a volcano is about to erupt all around her and everyone is looking somewhere else.
Her gaze follows to where the other horses have their eyes on – a lamb. Everyone seems to be so fascinated by the small, innocent creature. It truly exhibits nothing special at all until she takes a step forward, curiously, and gets a closer look. Seven horns curling back from the lamb’s head. Seven eyes glowing and staring as if she is the only horse at this juncture. Then a second later, Lucrezia blinks.
The lamb is gone.
Silence collapses on them, deafening the thunderous sounds of bells. It is a relief but the mare is left feeling haunted by the sound. And then the voice rings out, breaking the suddenness of the silence that had left her feeling haunted. The voice comes from all around, but her nutmeg gaze remains forward where the lamb had been – if it truly had been there at all. She listens intently because deep within her own heart she knows she must. “Behold the end of the world is nigh!” She hears.
The world is ending.
No, it couldn’t be ending. Except it was quite plausible if Lucrezia thinks about it. Her father had appeared before her in a body that was dying. If anything she knew that would be her dying wish – to see family and loved ones again – before she passed onto the next life. Is this where all of those dying came to pass in Beqanna? No, it couldn’t be. It seemed much more was beyond where she was now and with everyone around her. Lucrezia doesn’t know how she should feel about all of this. Maybe a mixture of fear and anger.
“You are the chosen ones.” For what though? Lucrezia cannot imagine what they are chosen for if the end of the world is near. However, she knows deep down that she has already accepted what the voice offers her and the others. Lucrezia is brave. She has always been brave. And to accept her own fate was something she was willing to do. After all, she had nothing to lose when she had nothing to begin with.
“I accept,” her voice chimes after the stallion’s acceptance.
It lingers here in the confined forest that is pushed off into the side of the meadows. The trees that stand so close together, rise up as one, stretching out their branches and casting a shadow across the forest undergrowth. A familiar fog intertwines itself through the trees and around her. There is an eeriness among the forest as it is nothing but still – nothing with a beat of life seems to exist here. Yet, she is here, her heat beating against her chest quietly in this eerie silence around her.
She embraces herself in the cold and darkness. Here in the middle of the forest, where she stands, the memories are fresh. The mare can recall the memories so easily, tasting the pine needles and feeling the heartbeat underneath here. Lucrezia lingers here because it is the only thing that makes her feel alive. She surrounds herself with the familiar pine tree scent, but they are not the Chamber’s own forest she grew up knowing. She surrounds herself in a mist that does not cling to her like the fog that comes from the mountains near her old home. She listens quietly, in the ever silence, to the heartbeat in her chest as she tries to make herself believe it is the same one that thumps against the Chamber’s earth.
It is nothing though.
The Chamber is nothing but a long dead memory attached to something she once used to be. She should’ve been someone. Maybe like her father, Rodrik, or her queenly sister, Straia. However, in the Deserts, she was someone. Lucrezia had been given a purpose in the sandy kingdom – a reason she was meant to be there. It had not been for the duty her father said it was. No, it had never been that. She was someone there. Someone who could be proud to say where they had come from. She is simply nobody now. Another soul wandering through life with desperation and desire. She needs something more than ever. Anything to make her feel like someone, or who she used to be.
Death.
The scent fills her nostrils quite suddenly. Lucrezia turns her head, searching through the group of trees and shadows that surround her. Her nutmeg eyes flicker slowly but quickly. The scent of death is quickly becoming overbearing. The soft padding of hooves against the forest floor is just behind her. She knows when she turns she will meet the gaze of death. The presence of the darker force is strong around here, or maybe it is merely the scent of a decaying body that overwhelms her severely. She turns her head anyway to face the demon. It is because she is not afraid of whatever it is. It is because she is brave.
But she shouldn’t have turned her head.
He stands there – the devil himself. He is strung together barely by the bones and muscles. Cartilage, ligaments, and tendons are the only things that sew him together. Rotten flesh hangs in strips and patched chestnut fur dots all over his body. The stallions’ eyes are sunken, hollowed, and lifeless. There is a hunger that fills his eyes, but she knows those eyes all too well. The tiny bit of nutmeg color remaining in his eyes gives it away easily. “Father,” she whispers softly but it doesn’t sound like she is speaking at all. Her voice is too quiet. The devil hears her though, by the flickering of his ears in her direction. “Lucrezia, my little girl,” his raspy voice expels out from his lifeless, decaying body.
Silence draws between them both. And then she hears the faint sound of bells.
The world begins to flicker around her. Lucrezia blinks a couple times. The image of her father’s corpse fades away from her vision. No, she thinks and blinks frantically. Her father is completely gone now. A deathly silence falls around here. “NO!” Lucrezia screams into the haunting silence as the world begins to flicker back into view.
The bells chime again in the silence. Her nutmeg eyes flicker across where she stands. It is still the same place where she was. Her father gone though. Nothing has changed it seems, but she is no longer truly where she was. Her eyes search through the shadows and trees. As she takes a closer look at the trees she notices they aren’t quite the same. The trees are dull and listless. She does not see the sun breaking through the branches or leaves of the trees. The wind does not stir either. This was not Beqanna. It was entirely something else.
Lucrezia hears the bells grow louder, demanding her attention in the direction they come from. “Come… You must come now.” It is a request, a demand from the voice that calls her she somehow cannot resist. A voice like her own father’s, one that demanded duty but filled with love. It is a lie though; however, she follows the sounding of bells that insist her to come. Lucrezia is blind though to notice this is perhaps a trap, but her thoughts are only set on one thing – her father.
There are others that follow as well. Four other mares and one stallion to be exact. She knows nothing of who or where they come from. However, she smells two of pine and mist. A scent of home that she cannot resist to let her nutmeg gaze linger for a moment longer. The black and white filly and stallion are surely from the Chamber but then Lucrezia shouldn’t make such assumptions. She is somewhere that looks and feels like Beqanna. A dream of some sort? She does not know, but only knows that these bells keep getting louder and it feels like a volcano is about to erupt all around her and everyone is looking somewhere else.
Her gaze follows to where the other horses have their eyes on – a lamb. Everyone seems to be so fascinated by the small, innocent creature. It truly exhibits nothing special at all until she takes a step forward, curiously, and gets a closer look. Seven horns curling back from the lamb’s head. Seven eyes glowing and staring as if she is the only horse at this juncture. Then a second later, Lucrezia blinks.
The lamb is gone.
Silence collapses on them, deafening the thunderous sounds of bells. It is a relief but the mare is left feeling haunted by the sound. And then the voice rings out, breaking the suddenness of the silence that had left her feeling haunted. The voice comes from all around, but her nutmeg gaze remains forward where the lamb had been – if it truly had been there at all. She listens intently because deep within her own heart she knows she must. “Behold the end of the world is nigh!” She hears.
The world is ending.
No, it couldn’t be ending. Except it was quite plausible if Lucrezia thinks about it. Her father had appeared before her in a body that was dying. If anything she knew that would be her dying wish – to see family and loved ones again – before she passed onto the next life. Is this where all of those dying came to pass in Beqanna? No, it couldn’t be. It seemed much more was beyond where she was now and with everyone around her. Lucrezia doesn’t know how she should feel about all of this. Maybe a mixture of fear and anger.
“You are the chosen ones.” For what though? Lucrezia cannot imagine what they are chosen for if the end of the world is near. However, she knows deep down that she has already accepted what the voice offers her and the others. Lucrezia is brave. She has always been brave. And to accept her own fate was something she was willing to do. After all, she had nothing to lose when she had nothing to begin with.
“I accept,” her voice chimes after the stallion’s acceptance.
Lucrezia
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