Long ago,
there was a man who hated. There was a man whose name was to be forgotten, banished from mouths. It was a man who life had betrayed as much as he had betrayed. But he only felt resent, and desired not revenge but unquenchable vindictiveness. As life drew shorter for him, he turned to the dark arts. And brought a cursed beast to existence. One that would give flesh to his hate. The creature only leapt at him and devoured him before dying. But even in death, he yet hated, and with that, his craft persisted.
Even now,
there is a banished ritual. Known only to those who truly lost themselves, who have lost all hope and only desire revenge. A ritual to call one of his beasts, to surrender an own's life for the promise to end another. If one were to fall prey to this curse, there is no escape, for none can truly hide from one's deepest hate.
157Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNMabCvpaZs
The chains lightly scraped against the stone walls as the wrists shook.
They had been shaking for years. Hunger, sadness, anger danced a maddening ballet in Julius's head. Once a murderer now but a frail old man in irons. He had been serving for decades in this small room he shared with rats. The moon shone through the barred window. Mumbling to himself he raised his shackled wrists and grabbed one rusted bar that had torn off. Chiseling into the stone a thin wavering line, that sit next to its numerous sisters. Almost.
He heard a familiar boots clicking, saw the candle's wavering flame casting more shadows than light. Along with some voices he hated.
"I know, I know... No... What I Think?"
He scurried back to his usual resting position, threw the bar into a corner, and feigned lifeless eyes as he stared at his feet.
The laughters and jumping voices approached his cell.
"Look, that'll just stay between us. Oh there you are! Julius, my favourite resident!"
The door unlocked in a squeal and a smell of strong alcohol filled the room.
"So Julius, it says, right, on this pa-a-aper, where's the paper, TOM!"
Tom started and with a shivering hand gave his master the paper from a pile of various documents.
"Says right here, that, you're out in two weeks! King's decree and all... You know how it is, laws, blegh..."
He made a noise resembling toilet bucket being emptied.
Julius kept staring, hiding his short breath.
"But here's what I say."
His heart sank.
"I say your kind should never walk the streets, I'll release any type of pisspoor lowlife in here, before I, let your eyes forget this sight."
The boy had slowly retreated to the corridor.
"Ain't that right?"
Julius stared as the alcohol filled his nose. His heart racing, his nails pressing against his aged palms harder with every inch closer the jailer came.
He only needed patience, it was soon over.
The jailer jumped back and started to walk in circles, waving his hands. Maliciously eyeing Julius's face.
"Oh but you think boohoo, he can't do that can he, that's against the laws! As if you were one to judge what is and is not in the laws, but I think you'll agree with me they just don't have to know everything that happens, or doesn't happen, do they?"
He beamed grimly over the prisoner, both waiting.
"Here's what I say, you don't have much to live left, you're old, your family abandoned you for the monster you are, it really does seem the only one who cares about you here is me..."
He dragged his face into a fake sad expression, his eyes locked on Julius's now very pale tightened shaking fists.
"I like that about you, you don't talk, I really do think I'll keep you longer! TOM! LISTS!"
The boy scurried into the room his fingers flipping through a large book's pages.
"Oh just gimme the thing."
He snatched the book out of Tom's hands and walked him out, closing the cell.
"Henrick, Henry, Julia, Julius Julius Julius Julius... Oh there you are Julius, or rather, there are you are not anymore!"
He took a short worn quill out of his pocket, licking its point, along with a small ink bottle.
"R-e-l-e-a-s-e-d" he slowly wrote, then pondered a bit. "earlier - for good behavior". He chuckled glancing at Julius who still hadn't moved.
He blew lightly on the ink, letting it dry, then snapped the book close.
"That's it, you're free! See you tomorrow of course!" He happily strutted across and out of the cell.
"See? He's not that dangerous I really don't get why you don't come in."
The boy's response was choked out by the stern lock closing.
"Pft... That's what all the new ones say..."
The voices faded, as did the alcoholed air.
Julius stared at his feet. He opened his fists, they weren't shaking anymore, in fact, he didn't feel like shaking. He didn't feel like anything.
A brooding thought occupied his mind. I hate you.
If only he could, all he needed was a piece of him, a strand of hair, a fingernail, anything, anything at all. Giving up on what he had left of reason, Julius wildly began to search the pale heartless stones. Anywhere he had been, the door, the bars, the lock.
Just as he looked, the moon shone through the clouds, and in its light lay a single strand of brown hair. Was it fate's way of giving mercy?
Julius greedily took the hair, smelled it, alcohol, fat. The boy was innocent, he did not deserve this, that's what Julius's last breath of humanity said. This was the jailer's hair, for sure, he knew it was.
He spoke in a wavering weak voice.
"One piece of he who to seek."
The wind grew as the skies sensed a familiar old energy.
"A piece of mother earth to bear the child of my spite."
He scrapped the dirt out of his nails, his movements brisk, and breath short.
The moon hid behind the gathering clouds.
He took the rusted metal bar out of the corner. His shaky fingers wrapped around it.
"One life..." He hesitated, tears rolled out of his dry eyes.
He looked at the room. The gathering storm knocking against the walls. There was no hope, no life to be had.
His eyes filled with a dying desperation, a last attempt to find something worth living for, anything. But the only response he had was the sharp rain hammering against the hard cell stones.
He raised his fist, pointing the rusted edged torn metal at his heart.
"One life, for your promise."
His fist fell, then his body.
Blood slowly drifted on the floor, taking the hair and dirt in its flow.
Rain broke out, wind smacking the prison's walls as Julius's last breath rippled over his blood as a last wish.
The craft took life once more, blood flowed out of the old man's body, sinking deep into the stones, deep into the foundations, deeper into the earth as it started to boil.
The jailer woke up with a cold sweat, and noticed a strange circular stab wound scar on his heart. Thinking it was a dream or the bottle, he fell back to sleep as the storm raged.
Julius's body was gone, his blood had burned a hole into the floor, a hole no eye should see, beyond it lay only hate, a man's hate and sorrow.
A hand sprawled out, then another, both too large to fit, they stretched out the gate, tearing the walls all around. The prison gave in and crumbled over the cell's remains.
People gathered under the rain, mercenaries kept watch with their torches to catch any fleeing prisoner.
Suddenly a bloodied pair of seemingly giant human hands sprawled out of the debris, the crowd stood dismayed in terror, as a large bony thin beast slowly crawled out. Its large ears pointed at the crowd. It had no eyes but it was looking. It sensed a presence. Maybe it was looking for it. It turned to the crowd, on its forehead, a large stab wound scar seemed to glow red like iron. Then it heard something.
The jailer walked out the debris covering his head, Tom running behind him with the usual books.
"Damnit when I find the culprit of this..."
He looked at the crowd, he followed their stare, only to find something staring right back.
A second passed that seemed an eternity. Everything stopped, rain disappeared, wind halted, even the night, the crowd, the city, all faded for an instant as the blind beast gazed.
It opened its large mouth, its teeth like spikes pulled out of its own jaw as it widened, leaving gaping wounds. It arched its back, pointing its head upwards, and with a screech, time ran again. Rain and wind hammered as the jailer heard a voice only he could hear, the scar on his chest burning him.
"No it can't be you! NO!"
The promise was fulfilled, as it always was.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
