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'1, 2,3...1,2,3...1,2... This is ridiculous.' The stifling spring air clings to Caldrin's lungs. 'Can't open the windows darling, think of the mess!' His mother's reasoning an irritation in the front of his mind. So her solution was shoving Cal into the meticulously
cleaned but stifling ballroom in the late afternoon. Morris, his recently hired teacher wasn't fairing much better.
"Enough for one day Morris?" Cal suggests. "Don't want to scuff the floors with too much practice." Morris lowers his goblet, and levels a look at Cal before quickly rearranging his features. He may be new to the castle but he isn't naive to high society.
"I agree your Grace, well done today. One more session before...?"
"You can say it Morris, my betrothal. I don't think I can do any worse in two days. You've done well." Cal gives a small grin and tucks his hands into his pockets as he turns to leave the room. "And besides, it's not like shes marrying me for my dancing," leaving Morris in the stifling room. He doesn't want to hear the assurances Morris would provide that he would make a good husband and his redeeming qualities. Its not for any dislike of the man, he's just heard the pleasantries his caliper of people have given him over the years. Overall a good person forced to bow and scrape at someone like him simply be meaning of birthright. Maybe he could be warned, maybe one less...
Cal's boots noiseless eat up the quickly darkening hallway. A flurry of shuffling can be heard to his left. His mother no doubt, having the servants clean the banquet hall again. Two days till the wedding. Two days till vows, dancing and a new beginning. He slowed to look up at the ancient chandelier, glowing dimly high up above the room. Burning out the old candles to be refreshed with something bright and new. For something made of metal and roughly the size of the largest wheel of his father's carriage, it was a beauty. The cut glass hanging in perfect symmetry always caught his eye when he was younger. Even when the candles were low and almost gone the glass held onto that shred of light. Glowing dimmer and dimmer, it never relented. Cal had one final glance at the guttering stubs reflected off glass, such resiliency, such power he thought.
She was beautiful. Long pale fingers tapered to delicate clean nails. A creamy neck holds up a head that is fueled with so many thoughts and ideas she actually made Cal want to listen. But it was her eyes that alarmed him. Her eyes that could possibly see what he had planned for the night. It was for the best he thought. Better to end it here before those eyes honed in on the endless desire within his own. A desire he deserved. His parents lounging on the respective thrones, eyes half lidded with fine wine and contentment wearing satisfied smirks. The glances exchanged between the two were not lost on Caldrin. They believe to have bested him. Thrown a pretty little thing at him to distract from hos tower, the whole room in fact seemed to take on a relaxed air. 'Caldrin had finally been delt with.' "Settled" as his mother preferred to say. A slight touch on his arm brought Cal's attention back to his new bride, she was looking at him over the wine goblet.
"A turn about the room? Let them witness the happy couple?" He suggested. Better to get her moving, allow the wine to run through her.
"Yes," she murmured, " I would enjoy that." Carefully getting to her feel Cal noticed the flush high on her cheeks. She began to take on the rosy color present on everyone in attendance, "I'm afraid I must lean on you my Lord, I hope that I..." She shook her head slightly to dissway the power of the wine.
"No problem at all. Lets show them what this union has wrought," Cal whispered. Holding her slim hot to touch arm in his, guided her to the floor. Musicians ceased their speaking and chatter with one glance and readied themselves. She looked at him once again with those rosy cheeks and newly added glassy eyes. Cal turned to the forms that resembled his parents across the hall. Holding their stare he cleared his throat and said: "My new bride and myself would love for you all to join us in our bonded dance. For what is two bright lights flickering when we can surround ourselves with the warmth of you all?" Slightly shocked, but with an unwillingness to show honed into them all since birth the nobles and wives joined them on the floor.
Afterwards he couldn't help but acknowledge the beautiful symmetry of it all. The seven noble houses gathered together for the first time in decades. The seven musicians playing for fervently no one saw their wholely black eyes. The seven Gods he prayed to at 15 and the seven demon princes that answered. It was beautiful and harmonious and everything he wanted.
As the floor was filling with couples Cal looked to his new bride. Shock for sure lingered on her face but she was determined to not fuss. "A shock to you too I know," he murmured into her ear. "But think of how silly they will all look out here! Even my mother and father are well into their cups." He spares a glace to his parents wobbling out to the floor joining the others just was unsteady. She manages to smile at him.
"Well, it would be nice not to be in the center of it all." She looks down and quickly finds something to stare at on the floor. Cal takes both her hands and squeezes slightly, forcing her to look up.
"You are exactly what they need you to be, but you are the end of their needs for me."
No one noticed the heat of it all. Another interesting reverie. No one seemed to notice the rise of music either. A jolting ceaseless wave of building music, along with the heat one would think there would be a sense of fear but there it was, all happening at once.
Everyone was red. The wine, the music, the dancing, it felt like the color red. A bead of sweat was trailing down the back of his neck itching the entire way down. Even with the lessons from Morris, Cal was winded. This song wasn't like any he had heard before. From the desperate sounds around him others were thinking the same. Maybe it was the wine that was propelling them along, or the need to appear in control and in command of themselves. This court had taught him that at any point there could be a weakness to pounce upon; a claim to be made. It was futile of course, the attack was already underway, the claim already consumed.
It began at the nails, oddly enough. Bubbled out at what he thought was a painless exit? It was a dripping sound that was almost missed over the music. A steady drip, drip, drip all around the hall. By the time it had progressed to something noticeable there was blood coating the floor. No one noticed the heat, no one saw that blood steaming on the floor.
She tossed her head back in laughter at something Cal didn't say. She was joyous and giving over wholely to it. When she straightened her head and wiped away a tear with her hand, she left a smear of blood behind."Oh, oh Gods I...what is this?!" She looks down at her fingers now tinged with black dripping at the tips. Wiping her hands down her gown she looks to Caldrin in horror. First at his hands, then to his smiling face. A look of confusion and fear make her pale.
Leaning close he whispers "I told you before, this is the end of it all." Leaving her wide eyed and weeping softly he makes his way to the center of the room under the chandelier and waits for the end of it all.
Mist, souls are mist. They are dense, ethereal and should be enjoyed at least once in a lifetime. The sensation of mist on skin cant be replicated, it either is or isn't, but it is ment to be enjoyed. A soul can't be replicated but it can be enjoyed. By the person it belonged to sure, but what about someone else? Someone who loved something as simple and innocent as mist could also enjoy the benefits of someones soul? Why one could even find nourishment from something like that. Food for the soul. Soul for the soul.
When the music stopped they collapsed. Dozens and dozens fell to their knees, bloodying black fingers clawing at their own chests. The flesh underneath smeared with blood began to relent under their sheer determination. They were burning, their hearts were burning. Cal looked at nobles who never bade him a greeting before today screaming, gagging and digging their fingers into their own chests. Cal thought to himself 'How much longer can this go on? Surely the body would collapse, the shock alone should' and he remembered the wine. They no longer understand the why only that this is terrible and cannot be stopped, the burning won't stop until they cleaved it out of themselves.
One by one the mist like souls were freed from their hearts. Up and up they floated into the air. The gasps stopped, the dripping ceased and the cries faded. Glancing up Caldrin saw that the chandelier was coated with a red haze. The candles half gone still shining through. Moving to the nearest table Cal picked up a golden goblet dumped its contents on the ground and filled with with a vial from within his cloak. Walking back under the chandelier he looks to the musicians. They stopped playing at the initial collapse. They looked to him with expectant eyes, waiting for him to speak. He swirls the mixture in his goblet, once, twice and says: " I can't wait to write about this someday, and remember this is where it all began," drinks deeply and collapses dead.
His body was still warm when they ripped his soul away. Seven pairs of hands cleaved, wrenched and tore his soul out. They would leave enough for him, enough to join this others completing the ritual. But the rest? The rest was theirs. The musicians, princes, demons whatever you call them, they claim the most. The promises you make to them, the offers they have, you would say anything all to quickly to agree. 'We will teach you how to shred your soul. Live forever doing whatever you desire. Dismiss all worldly and mortal needs to sheer want. Power granted and hones with perfection. The only limitation ultimately lies with you. Once the deal is struck, power granted the ritual must be complete souls collected, mortal death, soul rend then you reawaken.
It has been so long since they heard another name. They only thought of one: Lyustra.
They were Lyustra. This place of rot and perpetual winter was a paradise. A true escape from everything. A place were books, tomes, scrolls anything could be read unceasingly. That was all they had ever wanted; to be left alone and find contentment. They never forgot how this was achieved. Looking high above, they glanced to a wrought-iron chandelier, wreathed in red mist. On nights when the wind doesn't weave through the cracked stones they listen closely. If all is silent they can still hear those terror filled screams, the disjointed music building to a fervor. They take a sigh, a long forgotten human gesture and allow the memories of those last days live anew.