Apostasy: The Book of Ithaca

Chapter 15

Chapter XV



         Darkness enveloped him in a sea of abysmal depth and hue. Two orbs glistened in the black like moonlit topaz, burning with hot flames and within a shroud of miasma. Dark slits swelled and dilated as the thing blinked at Valimaar. Heavy, ragged breaths wheezed in the lingering blanket of silence, and each exhalation carried shards of cold ice, and hot iron. It breathed death, brooded terror, and it looked only at him; there in the whirling and unnatural nightfall.

         Tremors quaked in his arms as he aimed his pistol at the beast. This was no geist, or common possession. Its presence corroded the air about him, and encased him in a mire of decay. Gloom ripped at his beating heart that thumped like war drums in the silence. It was not dread, or hatred, or anger, but rather the dark and brooding grasp of all things that were. Tormented souls pulled him into the void, and angered spirits swirled around him like a vortex, yet he could not see them. Still, he felt them. This was more than a Daemon. This was hell with eyes.

         Lightning flashes broke down the walls of black that stood around him, but no thunder rolled in the heavens. Each flash revealed the thing in the corner. The woman that succumbed to the plague and came back to the light died there in that room. The body remained, but the spirit was shattered. A decayed and gnarled frame remained with claws as razors and eyes as embers.

         Silence rang in his ears like a mosquito’s buzz. Sweat rolled down his brow and tickled his eyes, but the room was writhe with cold embrace as it stared back at him. Its eyes vanished in the darkness and reemerged with each blink. It never came closer, or backed away, but stood still. He was overwhelmed with sorrow and heartache as it looked at him. Valimaar felt no sympathy for this abomination, but of those that suffered a meeting with it. Still, he could not bring himself to shoot. Something deep within him stayed his hand. It called to him from within the void of his soul, and implored him to stand his ground.

         You’ve freed her.

         Gooseflesh crawled across his skin like an army of spiders, stinging and gnawing at him. Still, he felt no threat from the beast. It did not glare, or growl, but merely looked at him through its darkness.

         “Why do you aim that weapon at me?” It whispered like the shattering of glass and the wind through tree branches, yet it carried the tune of a woman’s voice. “My quarrel is not with you.”

         Muscles stiffened and cold fingers slithered down his spine. “Who is it with.”

         The eyes vanished. The abyss darkened around him, and the air was thick and heavy. He breathed ice as he scanned the room. Nothing. The others were somewhere with him, but he did not know where. They didn’t speak or breathe.

         Lightning struck, and the faces of the two silent Wytches flashed before him, ghostly and crimson. “It was with them.”

         Bodies fell to the floor with hollow thuds, and the lightning flickered across their corpses. The carvings he’d seen on all the others, scattered across their flesh that decayed in front of him. Their bodies withered and skin fell into the crevices between hollow bones. It grayed and collapsed into the darkness of their skulls and rib cages, until there was no more. Bones decayed into piles of white dust on the floor and blew away in a wind that was not there.

         The eyes returned. It stared at him once more from the same place it had been. “Leave this place.”

         “Why did you kill them?” His voice was dull and muffled.

         “Leave this place, or die the same death.”

         “Go.” He spoke into the darkness. Behind him, he heard feet stumbling across the wood floor. Two pairs, one remained here with him.

         Hands slid across wooden walls as they struggled to find the door.

         “I told you to leave as well.” Its eyes burst to flames, and the wood of the building creaked and moaned in agony.

         The door creaked open, and the forms of the two Wytches darkened the dull glow of twilight. They ran through the doorway, and it slammed shut without their aid.

         “My Lady, Go.”

         Her footsteps thudded against the wood floor as she came to his side. “I stay.” Her voice shook with shards of horror.

         “You two humans… why do you defy me?” Its eyes drew closer to them.

         “Because we do not fear you, Daemon.” He stepped forward. “I feel you. I see you with my eyes. You… are not here to harm us.”

         “If you do not leave, I will harm you.”

         “I doubt that.”

         “What makes you so sure of yourself, human? Do you know what stands before you?” The windows shattered, and sharp shards of cold glass rained upon him like a storm of razors. Chairs grinded across the wood floor and crashed against the walls as glass plates fell and shattered. Fire erupted in the hearth, and roared, but it cast no light or heat. “I am no Daemon.”

         Valimaar drew closer and glared at the beast. “And I am no human.” He spoke his own fire and ice at the abomination.