The Darkness

While we had cut and dodged through pockets of the inky, cloying stuff, we desperately moved to keep ahead of it as well, for even as I made the declaration to return, the Blackness had already gained ground on us. Creatures of madness, mixed with panicked wildlife, all fleeing inwards, away from the crawling, persistent poison that Morhaig had not precisely unleashed upon Seahaven, but instead, took the Aartiran's greatest mistake, and turned it against them a million fold.

It was at best, slow going, the storms that had pelted the fields and city for the last week, had not been gentle nor kind to the surrounding landscape. Fallen trees, swollen creeks turned into raging rivers, carrying with it houses and broken timber, and countless lives. It was clear just how bad it was, when we reached the north end of Milford, moving as quickly down the mountain pass as the jagged, dangerous terrain would allow.

The river that borders Milford, was nearly triple its normal width from shore to shore, and had already taken down a row of homes that lines the east side, cutting a massive gouge out of the small town. Luckily, we did not have to cross that swift, swallowing body of water, we instead, made our way as best we could along its flooded edge, and then cut west into the fields. I was not sure exactly what it was that I was going to do...but I had to DO something.

It occurred to me as we ran, panting heavily, not even feeling the cold, ignoring the wind, pushing back the exploding pain in my lungs with each heaving breath, that I had warned them. Repeatedly. I predicted this for years, tried in vain to get the throne, the pack, that damnable meathead in charge of the Royal Guard, the city Watch..I plead with them, upon deaf ears, to DO something about what was happening in our world. About the Darkness, about the corruption, to organize, and think of something beyond their own selfish immediate needs! Time and time again, I was rebuffed, and my warnings downplayed or entirely ignored. Even my attempts at altering the course of things myself, of trying to push back the Darkness with my own sacrifice was met with hostility and threats of arrest, even by those that claimed once to be my friends.

We fled across the fields, Balkoth and I, and even then, in my most desperate hour, I looked over towards him and was grateful that he was there. I knew that he too, had no idea what to do, but he came with me none the less, knowing it was all but hopeless. The road was washed out in places, and somewhere along the way, the tavern that had so many times offered me a warm place to rest, was gone, just a half collapsed chimney thrusting out of a pile of broken boards and debris remained at the side of the road. I did not have time to consider if there was anyone in there when it fell, for even as I hated the city and the corruption it represented, I knew there was still good people there, and they would need help.

The beach was awash with driving rains and massive waves, some of which would reach all the way to the road, and momentarily flood it as it swept across its surface. We timed our sprint, to match the wave's withdrawal, and hopscotched across the worst of the sea threw our way until we reached the city gates. It stood intact, but swinging open in the wind, banging against the stone wall, unattended, no guard, no lit torch to welcome the late night traveler. We burst through without stopping, and turned towards the north, headed towards Trygon's bar. It was still his bar in my mind, I barely was able to clean the place up for Shay before circumstance took me away from it and his memory, and sent me once more into the chaos.

The city at first, seemed to be abandoned, doors left open, windows without light, but it was soon apparent as we moved towards the Square, that voices, rising in anger and panic, carried up and over the storm and made themselves known. As we arrived, the High Commander was shouting above the crowd, bellowing orders to try to gain some semblance of control over a wild-eyed mob, as the Darkness itself began to finger across the sky over head, the storm being suffocated by the inky stillness, the absolute cold of Morhaig's Vengeance.

The crowd dispersed, much like a stampede, south towards the gate, but I knew there was no point in joining the flight, and instead my grey, defeated eyes met Balkoth's and remained there for a moment or two. I reached my hand for him, but the mass of people that surged through the street, separated us and cast us apart like leaves upon the water. I was able to scramble up and out of the flow, using an awning to lift myself out of harms way for a moment, and pull myself up to a low roof, but it also filled my eyes with an unblemished view of what was going on in the sky, and the streets beyond the square. The Darkness, had broken over the walls, and eaten them whole, along with the noble district, and it was closing, while to the west, it appeared to already have hold of the Two Lion's and was moving this way.

It was too late. I could do nothing. I was...beaten. I had sworn I would never let Morhaig win, so long as I still breathed life. But here I was, watching her victory, one she had won so completely, and it shattered my heart. Looking upwards, the last of the storm disappeared from sight, and a silence began to claim the area. Yes...I remember this. I remember the silence, the cold, and I remember very clearly, the pain that is to soon come. Each person who was enveloped, each one, did the same thing. They ran, screaming from the closing Darkness, and then went utterly silent as they were overcome.

It was quieter now, as I gaze back down into the square, Kelindel was there, standing utterly dumbfounded, his useless sword in hand, watching as Fate closed in around those few that remained. Balkoth. I searched the square, but he was no where to be seen. Did he still live? I prayed he was safe, but I knew he was not. I sighed, looking down at my grey hands, battle scarred and empty. "so, I end up dying in this damned stoned cage after all", the words murmured quietly, and yet, in the now almost deafening silence, the words rung like a bell in the night.

Looking up, my eyes close, and my mind goes to Balkoth, if only we had had more time. It goes to Shay, my poor, broken sister, had I only been able to save her. To Trygon, my old love, my shattered friend, I dearly pray that Balor honors and understands the price he paid for his devotion. Finally, it rests upon my first love, my reason to exist, my point and purpose, my mind goes to Sykala, and along with it, my heart. As the cold envelopes me and my ears fill with silence the insanity of the familiar pain begins to crawl once more over my skin, I wonder to myself, if the Gods of that pathetic, but desperately missed little world, consider the loss of Dark Isles, worth it all.