This is another one of my entries to Renaissance. I was so sure I would win, because I don't recall anyone else writing something like this. But since I didn't, I'm putting it up anyway.
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Flickers
Life is like a candle flame; beautiful, short and so very fragile.
Sometimes, what fate gives, life takes away.
Sometimes, we have to learn to let go.
But sometimes, letting go just isn’t possible.
Death
“Get out of my way.”
He shoved the servant aside; he was barely aware of what he was doing, nearly mad with anxiety and worry.
Her door had a sprig of holly on it; the red berries looked like drops of blood in the flickering candlelight. A single rune had been carved onto the aged wood. His eyes widened. He didn’t need to be a mage to recognize it. Death.
“No!”
He burst into the room. The Healer was standing next to her, a Cleric holding the Holy book, ready to administer the last rites to see her safely to the next world. The sight of the two of them only turned his fear to fury.
“Get out,” he snarled, his voice low enough to hide his anger. “Get out. Now.” His glare would have frightened lesser men. The two mages calmly walked out, recognizing his grief. It was something they had seen so many times.
“Bid her farewell,” the Cleric murmured as she walked out.
(Never)
She looked so small and frail. The illness wouldn’t leave her; even the best Healers couldn’t do a thing. It ate away at her insides and grew stronger, taking over her body all the time, leaving her bone-pale and exhausted.
She opened her eyes. They were the only things that hadn’t weakened, or changed beyond recognition; green emeralds that blazed with life and fury.
“I’m not going to die,” she whispered, her voice soft but fierce.
He took her hand; it felt so light, and her pulse so faint. He choked back a sob. She was slipping away from him with every breath.
“Look at me,” she demanded, her voice soft but still ringing with authority.
He kissed her hand and obeyed.
“I. Will. Not. Die.” Her eyes could have been green flames.
“I won’t let you,” he swore.
“They tell me I will die, they tell me to prepare for it.” She laughed. “Fools. All of them.”
She died less than an hour later.
Promises
“You will bring me back,” she had said just before (don’t think) ordered, more like. And he had promised.
That was why he stood in the middle of the woods, bathed in the illumination of the overhanging full moon. That was why he had thirteen candles arranged in a circle, why he had traced a circle of protection around himself, why the necessary runes were scratched into the dirt. If this ritual went wrong, the consequences would be disastrous.
After all, a demon summoning wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
He took a handful of ash; ashes from a funeral pyre. Ash that connected the world of the living to that of the dead. Her world.
He scattered the ashes in the circle of candles, murmuring the ritual’s incantations. The air seemed to grow heavier, as if tainted by the black words. The candles continued to burn as brightly, but still, the shadows grew longer, creeping towards the circle.
He felt no fear, no fear at all. It had to be done.
(beloved, for you)
He felt a thrill as he always did when doing these forbidden rituals. Necromancy was banned of course, as was all forms of the dark arts. But he had tired of healing and all the other soft, lighter, meager magicks years ago. The call of the Dark arts was stronger, and infinitely more satisfying.
(all for you)
There was a faint smell of sulphur. He smiled.
(Finally)
A black mass was materializing in the circle; maturing and shaping itself until it towered over him; a billowing shapeless form, still mostly smoke and vapour. It turned to face him; two flashing yellow orbs on what he supposed was a face observed him.
“You are the mortal that called?” Its voice was a little louder than the rustling of dry leaves on a forest floor. It sounded amused.
He shivered. Just a little. It must be the cold.
“Yes. And I have but a single order. Bring my love to life.” That was specific enough.
It shook its head. “I cannot.”
“You cannot, or you will not?” He managed to keep the anger from his voice. Just barely. “Remember shade, I summoned you. You owe me obedience.”
“I cannot.”
“Why? What is lacking?”
“There is an alternative,” the demon murmured, changing the subject.
He tensed, hardly the daring to hope. “What is it?”
The demon hesitated. “Forget I mentioned it. It is… forbidden for your kind.”
“Just tell me!”
A soft hacking sound, the sound of dried leaves being crushed on an autumn’s day emitted from the smoky shape.
“You sell your soul to me, and I give you power enough to bring her back yourself.”
He shivered despite himself. “What is the point of bringing her to life if I die?”
“You won’t die,” the demon soothed. “You mortals are made of three things; body, soul and mind. You would still be very much alive if I took your soul.
“In fact,” the demon continued. “I think I shall be generous.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Your kind knows generosity? But what about the price?”
“There always is a price,” the demon agreed. “But a mortal’s soul has been worth much since humans stopped dabbling in demon summoning.”
He ignored the indirect insult. “What do you mean by being generous?”
“I give you power, as well as immortality for you both. Think of it – “ he swore the demon was smirking “As a wedding present.”
(i hate it)
“All this in the petty exchange for my soul?” he asked skeptically.
“Yes. Just one human soul.”
(don’t)
He considered, he couldn't see any flaws or loopholes -
(It’s a trick)
and nodded.
(no)
“I agree to your terms.”
There was that soft hacking sound again. He realised the demon was laughing.
“And let your will be done, your desires sated. This night, you have sold your soul to a demon.”
The shadows seemed the swirl, like robes blown in the wind. Only there was no wind; the air was so unbelievably still –
“Come close,” it whispered, and his feet obeyed, approaching the circle.
(run)
“Closer.” The wind blew and the candle flames dipped low.
He moved.
“Closer still.” The wind again, and they went out.
(no)
Blood.
Awakening
When he woke, the demon was gone.
The sky was just beginning to lighten to an ash grey. He must have been unconscious for hours.
Funnily enough, he didn’t feel groggy or lightheaded. It was as if a veil in his head, one that he had never realised was there before, had been lifted.
And then he just knew. He knew how to do it. How to bring her back.
And from now to the very end, I will always love you
I stand at the edge of a cliff. Above, the sky is brilliant with stars; diamonds on black velvet. Below, the waves pound on the shore, the sea a mirror that reflects the sky.
This place is not just the edge of a cliff. It is the very edge of the land, the sky and the sea; the edge of the elements themselves.
(The edge of life)
I stand next to him, his hands wrapped around my waist. His expression is solemn, thoughtful.
“What is it?” I ask.
He looks at me, his eyes dark with shadows, his mouth twisted in a frown. But even like this, he is still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.
“Do you love me?” he asks.
It takes me a full second to register the words that come from his lips. I am confused.
“Yes,” I reply, hoping, praying he can hear my sincerity. “I do.”
“What is it like?”
His question stuns me. I have no reply to it.
“When you were dead, I thought of you every second of my waking. And when I slept, I dreamt only of you.” He runs his fingers through my hair gently. I warm to his words and his touch. “I was obsessed with bringing you back. It became my sole purpose of living. ”
“You succeeded.” I take his hand and kiss it, hoping to break this train of thought.
“I assumed that meant I loved you.”
My blood goes cold; my body understands the situation faster than my mind does.
”What are you trying to say?”
He sighs, pulls his hand out of my grasp and takes a step back. I can only watch him, my eyes hot and moist.
(will not cry)
He takes a moment before he looks at me and I am afraid.
(this isn’t him)
There is something in his expression that scares me. I am dead afraid.
(stranger. a stranger with his face but not his eyes. this isn’t him)
“I made a pact with a demon,” he says.
The tension in the air mounts. I am so very afraid to hear his next words, but there is no stopping the nightmare.
“I sold my soul to the demon in exchange for power enough to bring you back, and immortality, so we could be together for all time,” he explains. His voice is soft, his tone indifferent, emotionless.
“I thought my soul would be a small price to pay.” He laughs bitterly. “Fool that I am.” He sighs.
“The demon knew all this would be pointless without my soul,” he says looking in my eyes. I feel like I have been frozen; I cannot move, cannot speak; all I can do is watch.
(and get hurt)
“Don’t you love me?” I hear the pleading note in my voice when I finally speak, and I hate it.
He closes his eyes, as if steeling himself for what came after. When he opens them, I notice for the first time the flecks of gold in his irises. It was ridiculous to notice them at such a time, but focusing on these details is so much easier than looking into his eyes. It was strange, how such a warm brown colour could suddenly look so cold.
(hurt he’s going to hurt me)
“I’m not capable of it,” he said, almost apologetically. “I remember loving you, yes. I think of you every day, yes. But I’m not capable of the emotion. I don’t love you.”
For the first time in a very long one, I feel tears sting my eyes.
“Humor me,” I beg pathetically. “Just one more night. Pretend you love me like you did before.”
He shakes his head, his expression unhappy. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
I close my eyes and feel a single tear crawl treacherously down my cheek. “I love you.”
“I know,” he replies, and to my surprise, gently brushes away the tear. “And I’m sorry. I am going to have to kill you.”
(no)
I look up, shocked. He grips my arms tightly, I cannot move. “I apologise,” he says. “You are going to die tonight and by my hand.”
(dont want)
“Why?” I whisper. “After everything you’ve done to bring me back?”
(i don’t make me go back there)
“At the moment, your love is all that stops you from killing me where I stand. But love,” his mouth twists into an unfamiliar half-smile that doesn’t match his eyes. “Love changes to hate quickly. You’re too much of a threat for me to allow you to keep on living.”
(dont want to die)
“You can’t kill an immortal,” I say, clinging on to this last hope.
“No.” Again, that half-smile. “But you can become mortal.”
The defensive enchantments immediately leap to my lips. But he moves faster than I do. The spells, in an ancient primal tongue, far older than the words of power I know are out of his mouth and I immediately feel its effects.
(no)
There is no flash of light, no bang, no smoke. But there is no doubting the power of the spell. I feel the incredible, invincible strength I had felt since coming back drain, as if being bled out of my body. And I can almost feel Death’s cold, icy presence as he breathes on me once again.
I feel weak. Small and insignificant under the stars. And I know if he were to stab me now, I will bleed, just like any human.
Mortal, that is how I feel.
“I am sorry,” he apologises again.
I look at him.
“I only wanted to live with you,” I say, feeling more tears fall. I don’t mind the weakness now; what does it matter if I’m going to die soon anyway?
(gods i loved him i loved him)
He smiles sadly. “Me too.”
Softly I reach out a hand and touch his face, and when he doesn’t stop me, trace the features I love so much.
I could still strike him; he had released his grip on my arms and I could stun him and escape. I didn’t have to die; at least not today.
(oh gods, i still love him)
But what reason would I have to keep continue my pitiful existence?
I exhale heavily.
“Make it quick,” I tell him.
He nods and produces a silver dagger out of nowhere.
(i love you)
He stabs me in my heart.
After
The wind seemed to whisper in his ears as her body fell limply into his arms.
“Remember me,” it murmured in her voice. For a moment, the breeze felt like fingers brushing his face.
(i will)
The ache of her death had already begun to set in. And he knew he would live with that ache for all his never ending days.
Epilogue
Loss
Once I could see the stars without torment
Life was perfectly happy for me.
Now the feelings come as a mad torrent
Loss taught me lessons I couldn't see.
I would give the world to see you again
To return to those precious nights.
I want to see your sweet smile again
As you're lit by diamond lights.
In the dark the nightmares entrap me
Into a world of eternal hate.
I kept pretending you were there with me
Now I realise that it's far too late.
I should have known it would never change
My indescribable twisted fate.
After all I should have realised
That you're already dead.
Alone
The sky twinkles with midnight stars
I hear nothing but the beating of my heart
Bathed in the moon's pale silver beams
It feels like a nightmare, a terrifying old dream
The darkness comes, lonely and cold
It smells of rotting damp and mould
Shadows slide over me, eager and long
The ghosts began playing a slow sad song
Fingers entwine around mine, clutching my hand
They grow blazing hot, like a blacksmith's brand
I cry in pain as Lightning flashes
And Thunder's drums cover my gasps
He stares back at me with such hate
I cry and shiver as my heart continues to ache
His lips form the words I dread and fear
I scream but no one living appears
He vanishes, leaving me all alone
The old ghosts crawl out and began to moan
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I hope I got the voices for both different characters right. The poems were written some time back, and I really surprised to see how well they fitted with the story.
