Death Isn't A Villian, It's A Reunion

Today is April 31… Flowers have never been beautiful without color to kiss their petals in bright dips. Life has never been tolerable without Fate to taint the forthcoming, Destiny to flicker the light, and Death to give a little push from the tightrope… Silver hairs of moonlight bounce through the cracked pane of painted glass as splotches of bluish and silver light stain the emerald marbles. The grim walls painted in the innocence of ivory dull against the angry scars and cracks. Under the canopy of unusual lighting of silvered blue, a phantom outline of broad shoulders lined in charcoal threads strides swiftly with inhuman eyes of grey and faint brownish hair. Dressed in a blue cravat and white tailcoat with polished white shoes bleeding into the white-legged trousers lined with two silver buttons, he looks like a nightmare of unearthly eyes dressed like a phantom’s dream in the guise of a human’s nightmare. “Do you remember how it feels to be human again?” A soft soprano, flickering the dull silver, fills the jeweled room in ivory curtains with a melody, stopping the ghost looming over the bars that prick metallic fingers into the bleeding glass. “Human again? There’s no life with a story of us.” “Maybe we didn’t fight for us? Or maybe they never fought for them… Phantom fingers curl around the railing, blocking the space between the aperture as wide as the gawking green eyes. Flickering threads line around the orbs, resembling white lashes that slowly spread in thick, ivory ribbons as the tilt of the head sends flustered curls brushing the corset that squeezes the thin waist beneath the curtain of pink kissed by a singeing sensation. “But we can always go to the past,” he tilts her chin as the ghostly outline of his long fingers curls to hook one knuckle beneath the tip, while the other hand stuffs into his pocket, drawing out a golden pocket watch. Despite their flicking outlines, the watch looks very much visible as silver light pours onto the golden frame, swirling with intricate patterns in golden strokes and dark touches as faint curves and lines also taint the flawless glass. One would have left treasures to steal the seductive rose ticking like the hour hand, the stem lines with lustful thorns, begging for a taste of crimson as the outline of the rose glittered like the circlet around the lady’s head. The rose exuded enigma as it caught black flames under the blue light and then turned bloody red under the silver. The numbers were penned in a foreign style as she lifted her enchanted eyes back into the molten metal, clawing at her with an expectant look. “Will I meet you there?” “I will always be your shadow.” The next words come in an inaudibility… Darkness envelopes the world before bursting into colors of gold and impossible shades of fluorescent, as if darkness hides a hint of color as well.

* * *

1891 -“I hadn’t expected our story to bloom like a lotus in a puddle during the storm, when it hadn’t even taken a second thought before destroying the bud.” My world had crashed with another… Flowing burnt-pink hair touched by the lips of a pale rose, green eyes as wide as the beauty that bleeds my heart, and those wicked lips that smile prettily even in the rain and the patchwork of mud. Elanor Reverie. “Will you stop staring?” I snap out of my thoughts as I look up into her eyes with a wolfish grin, “I was just admiring.” Instead of the usual fluster I am swarmed with, her confidence had me more amused than faltered, as she steps closer with her hands wrapped around her waist. Tilting her chin, I rake my eyes over her periwinkle skirts and the leather corset with thin straps hugging her frame as my grin widens, “Do you know who you’re talking to, little wildfire?” She opens her mouth, and it’s definitely the sweetest thing I have ever heard, “Oh yeah? Who am I talking to? The Majesty of the empire?” “I think she’d feel jealous if you compare a god to her.” “I think I’d feel disgusted if I talked to a twerp like you for any longer.” And then she’s the one who’d be walking away, leaving me smiling like an idiot who just found what love at first sight felt. I can’t say this was love at first sight. But I am certainly sure whatever was between us, she must have felt it too. The attraction. But if not, then I am definitely intrigued. Roads littered with shacks and hovels painted in the burning saliva of the blazing sun that sinks its teeth into my flushed skin. The asphalt buzzed with loud bargains and angry harridans with the smell of rotting wood and other bodily fluids as sweat draws its tongue over my jaw, ticking down in beads of salted water. Velas have always dulled under the reputation of the more modern and classy society as a part of the city, even given the laughable name of ‘The Elevated’. The desperation for attention and respect always fueled a human’s greed and lust for authority. As The Elevated stood arrogantly under the dull gray shades of an isolated castle with its pointy towers dipped in ashen clouds, the Crimson Dynasty. Myths mythologized that a wicked goddess had granted the boon of cursed powers from the gods, that the mortals worshiped for years, had given birth to an entire bloodline of magic and macabre. But this tale wasn’t believed by most. What a shame to not believe what’s unbelievably true… I tsk mockingly as I tie my bronze cravat around my neck, presenting myself as the epitome of a gentleman. Dressed like a silky dream, I can’t help but feel irked by the closeness of Empress Valerie. Had I not been her ‘step-son,’ I’d likely be her first choice. It’s impressive how my father managed to marry her, only to die that very night from an arrow to the heart. Carl Marcello has always been clever at getting ladies in arms, even in his fifties, and then leaving them with the same sadistic glint in his unearthly eyes. But it’s not his death that irritates me even more; it’s the ageless life we’ve lived for centuries now, with half of our powers still trapped in the Tome of Allure with its hidden location. I had tried to get information from the empress, but my overly kind stepmother seems to have never taken on the clues, or she hadn’t lost the sly streak she holds to herself. Sometimes, I’m not sure if she even believes me. I could see the vicious glint beneath her rosy cheeks and painted lips.

* * * I know it’d be cursed to have a mortal as an object of affections, but it seems so; spending a few weeks with my new victim hasn’t gotten me satisfied. I don’t know, I might’ve been half-human to have held emotions, but this surge of desire for her drives me crazy. “You’re staring again.” “I am just enjoying the view.” She huffs out a scoff, feigning aggravation, “No. You look like a creep.” Her comment has me more amused than offended as I lean closer. The proximity is barely noticeable as she turns to step back, but I plant my hand beside her head, on the wall, “You know…” I breathe. “We could work together just fine if you give me something way better.” Our noses brush slightly as her breath hitches. “Like an apple.” I pull back with a lusciously red apple tangled in my fingers, twirling it as if it were my latest prisoner as she huffs indignantly. I would’ve given us what we desired, but I think a little teasing won’t hurt, right? And I’ll take the answer as a ‘yes’ from her. “An apple? That’s the best you could ask for?” I stop twirling the apple as I lean closer with a widened smirk, “Careful, little wildfire. I could ask for more.” “Did I interrupt such an interesting conversation on my account?” We jump apart from each other as my hooded gaze suddenly turns into a murderous glare, definitely not happy about being interrupted, “Cardan,” the name tastes bitter on the tip of my tongue as all the sweetness of the fruit dissolves into a bitter after-taste that doesn’t even belong to the slice. “I think it wouldn’t be much of a hurt to steal you from your darling?” “I am not his darling!” “I think I would manage staying away from my darling.” Elanor shoots a betrayed glance at me as I am escorted by a man made of a loose cravat and a half-way unbuttoned shirt as we reach through the Gulf street connecting the Velas and the The Elevated with an alley known for crimes and robbery. No wonder the myths had also claimed a foreign goddess of mortal rues to ensnare all the shadows, as the sheets of darkness move in unusual motions, not exactly mirroring the strides I take with a nonchalant swagger behind Cardan. Suddenly, we halt, and he reaches out to prick his finger into a wall of thorny roses and mosses and faded bricks as the flowers wilt. Swirls of gold and hues of impossible fluorescent almost blind me as I bring a hand to shield my vision. “The Tomb of Divine was said to have its location under the portals. The Magnus.” My eyes lit up as I took in my surroundings. Instead of an alley, we stand in a graveyard of rotting wood and roses with a shade darker than blood swirling around the patch like splotches of crimson stolen by Death himself, “The Magnus?” “When I was at the royal library, I discovered that Magnus was the first Graymoor royal from the Southern to venture into an alternately different dimension, burying the Tomb somewhere in the realm’s ground, but we need a map to it,” he taps his chin as if trying to remember a play’s practice lines, “Not an ordinary map, we need to know the insides of it.” This might be the chance to get our powers. The sweet taste of magic. “It was all a myth. But we managed to combine our left powers to form a portal.” “How much time do we have?” I ask quickly, looking up at him. “Not much, darling.” Empress Valerie stands with an unusual youthfulness; her grey-streaked hair had turned deep orange, and the wrinkled features have become marbled and placid. Long ago, mortals believed that the gods had granted the wicked kings and heirs powers, but it was an object that granted and guarded magic, Divine, forged by the gods for inheriting some abilities, and protected the Tomb of Allure. Emotions fuel magic, and I have relied on mortal emotions for half of my powers, and Cardan has been my companion to achieve what he lost. Eve. Just as human greed had fueled most to lust over our powers. A mortal’s love is as powerful as the ugly red of lust, and as Cardan had signed in blood with the Church of the Immortals to work for us for the retrieval of our powers and his wife, Eve. He stands beside me with a renewed confidence, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The empress stood in a dark, billowing gown with a silver bodice as she extended her thin arms with pilfered magic. Spots dance over my eyes as Cardan shakes me from unconsciousness. Scent of metallic stings the air as dark sand pours into my eyes, trying to adjust my view, I rub at them.

An almost insubstantial state of magic stares at me with orbs of dark pupils dilating like an inebriated serial killer about to kill his own companion, Divine. I had crashed to the ground due to the force as Cardan helped me to my feet. We stood a mere distance away from the empress, who kept smirking. Greed has always been dangerous, but we’ve been far more lethal. “You should’ve brought backup,” I said with a daze. Cardan looks up at me with a solemn nod, “Hope we do not die, brother.” Then we’re sprinting, bolting like a thunderbolt crashing down to get a lick of the ocean, but then we’re jolted by the salty taste as blood almost blinds me. Cardan plants his foot in the bark of the black while my fingers dig into the splinters. We take opposite flights as I summon half of my powers with words that feel familiar but foreign to taste. It’s been a long time since I had magic on my taste buds. Dark liquid, filled with mystery, courses through my veins, reflecting the blackness on the ground as Divine shifts over the tome. Empress Valerie extends her slender arms, while shadows lap at the mass like hungry dogs. Cardan summons thorny tree roots to strike the thick snakes, and I can only manage to control the roots to lash at the tendrils. I crash down the murky land as an invisible force pelts down on me. The empress materializes on my chest with a pointed heel, digging into my heart, “You must be tired?” She feigns a concerned look as Cardan tangles himself in the tendrils. His lashes of nature weaken against the agony fueling her magic, “Tell me. How has your little love story with my daughter been going?” My eyes widen. No. No. No! NO! Elanor is the last thing I want her to be involved in this tragedy, and that she’s the empress’s daughter. I believed it a lie as I shrieked, “She said she’s orphaned.” “Darling, that’s naive. Hadn’t Carl taught you not to trust everything they say?” “I only trust her,” that’s the most truest thing I ever confessed to the empress as she smirks widely, “You’re still a-” The parasite launches as a delicate figure emerges from the woods. I prop myself on my elbows, blood reddening my vision as Nyx appears with auburn hair and dark brown eyes filled with morbid fascination, “We brought back-up,” she smirks, “Be glad I wouldn’t have paid for your funeral pyre.” No words escape my lips as I sway on my feet, feeling a surge of blood and electric magic. We plunder through, and despite my weakened pace, I slice through blocking branches and aggressive shadows. Silas stands across from me, wielding a magic-fueled sword, while the other Immortals attack with daggers, their powers amplified by the agony in the air. We were a few paces away from the tome. From the Divine that guards the magic. From getting what we possess. “Neil.” Elanor sways with a possessed expression mirroring the empress, her mother. Until now, she had been the object of my immortal love, a silly girl from the Velas working in a library, but today, she looked exactly like the crowned princess with the golden circlet around her head, swirling with roses and intricacy as phantom threads of ivory control her. Beside her… This daughter of a witch… Empress Valerie smirks victoriously, standing on the edge of the Elite Fall, known for great murderous jumps and corpses that line across the field. A few Immortals haven’t managed to make it through, sacrificing their ageless lives for magic we adore. “If you gain all the powers, you’ll rule like the wicked we fear.” She says, I fall to my knees not as I please. Everyone halts and falls as well. Seems so she had stolen some of our powers as well. The Control. “I can’t let you rule.” “We might be the villains, but your mother isn’t the hero,” I shouted indignantly from my paralyzed state. “But she’s doing right.” Debris flies in swirls of darkness, but it’s not the unpaid funeral pyre; it’s Elanor who falls into oblivion. Empress Valerie plunders towards us with tendrils of shadows again, but a familiar sword slices through her tainted heart as Nyx seizes the hilt while I stand with my retrieved powers. Divine granted us powers again, and… I killed her… I killed her… I killed her… Emotions have always fueled magic, no wonder after the seal was broken from killing the empress, we got our powers, but my anger had gotten the best of me to kill the only love of my cursed life. I am a monster. Always the monster. Because the beast kills the beauty.

* * * Tonight was April 31…. Immortals were granted their powers by the cursed Divine. But I have never felt truly immortal; I felt dead again. Because the only weakness I have tried yet failed to push away was Love. When an Immortal loves, he craves for Death. And I wish to be Death instead, to never take away Elanor. To always keep her tucked in my arms, away from the vicious empire of Crimson Dynasty, now ruled by the wicked gods from myths, cellars filled with blood for entertainment, and display. Cardan had his hands all over his wife, Eve, as if he still couldn’t get over her retrieval while the other Immortals enjoyed in the guise of humans. The ball filled top hats and fancy gowns, fueled by seductive lies and energized red, reminding me of the red that I have spilled with a grim, not a satisfaction. The urge to give up my immortality and jump off the roof was thick. Maybe… I can still die…

The world turns in the maze of colors again, from hues of golden, lusting red, and greedy green into a shadow of darkness as the rose in the middle of the enigmatic pocket watch stops ticking. Tick. Tock. Nothing… “You said you were to be my shadow.” “But I followed you here.” The phantoms fade as the sun rises with bouncy curls of honeyed, golden light, as the outlines fade. Death isn't always the villain. It can reunite us.