Dancing In The Void

Laurence ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the dark, suffocating trees as the howls of his nightmare chased after him.

His hand left a bloody print on the damp bark of a nearby tree when he stumbled over some roots. The screeching seemed to get quieter, but when he turned back he still saw the creature’s pale eyes in the distance, glowing like two haunted lanterns on a stormy night. Fear pushed him forward. It felt as if he had been running for days, though it could not have been more than a few hours. Laurence’s eyes were dripping with tears, blood dripped from his head alongside them. The creature attacked them so suddenly, so viciously. It tore through their hideout without a care, and it tore through his family with even greater ease. His dad, Daniel, tried to fight it to give them a fighting chance, but the abomination was beyond them. It slaughtered his father, and then everyone else, leaving just him. Laurence had escaped, but the creature still tagged behind him, taunting, mocking, laughing, like an animal playing with its food. No matter how fast he ran the shadow still lingered behind him, but it never got closer. It seemed to push him in a certain direction, guiding him somewhere, but where?

Laurence’s questions were answered when he stepped on an almost broken plank of wood covered beneath foliage and the entire ground caved beneath him. Down, down, down, he fell into the old well, crashing into its foul muddied water below. Weakly, he swam up to the surface. He could see the black skies above in the distance, and another dim light behind him. A tunnel rose up through the dark walls of the wellside. He swallowed and reached up, pulling himself inside. The walls changed from a damp wet stone to a drier faded wood as he made his way inside, clutching his aching shoulder.

What is this place? He asked himself, enveloped in both a strange sensation of fear and comfort. Books began showing up on shelves within walls, and slowly the tunnel gave way into a small chamber with a rusty iron door on the other side. He yanked it open, and saw a basement, lit by a few candles that were on the verge of blowing out. Stepping forward he could see numerous crucifixes, books, incense burners, stacks of cloth, and different jars of varying substances and oils.

This is a church of some kind… He thought, placing his hand on a wooden cross and the other on the crucifix around his neck. Laurence smiled sorrowfully, whispering a small prayer for his family.

A door slammed open in the distance followed by a whistling wind, startling him and causing him to bump into the shelf he was next to. A couple artifacts fell on the floor. After a few moments where his heart was still, Laurence bent down and picked up the objects, a small cross and a matchbox, placing them in his pocket. Slowly he made his way down the hallway towards the door that opened. His thoughts were clouded in fear but he clutched the cross around his neck tightly and moved on. Slowly, his eyes got accustomed to the bright light that shone through the opening.

“Do not be so fearful child.” A voice cold as ice pierced his mind upon entering the room. “I am not here to cause you harm.”

Laurence covered his eyes slightly as they adjusted to the powerful shine in the room. The lights seemed to ease, almost as if responding to his distress. Before him stood a very old man, tall and thin, cloaked in a deep black priest’s cassock. His skin was deathly pale and barely clinging to his bones.

“What in god’s name…” Laurence whispered to himself.

“Please, do not take his name so lightly in vain.”

“Who are you? Are you a priest?”

“The man whose body I inhabit was.” He paused briefly. “He was already dead by the time I got to him.” He replied to Laurence’s unasked question. “I am a messenger of God, Laurence.”

“Like.. an angel?”

“In a certain fashion, yes.”

An angel should not have a voice this frigid. Laurence thought quietly.

“I know of the beast that hunts you Laurence.” The strange being continued. “I am sorry I could not help. I am shackled. Unable to intervene. I know of the tragedy that has taken place, that is why I am here.”

Laurence wiped his red teary eyes on his shoulder. “Why are you here if you can’t do anything?”

“Because you can.”

The boy stared, confounded. “W-wha-”

“Those that visited you, the demon that was with them. They are the ones at fault for all of this. They unleashed the horrors that killed your family and not just.”

Wrath’s golden eyes flashed in Laurence’s mind, sending him on his knees, sobbing. “Why are you saying this, I don't.. I don't understand… God please.”

“I am here to guide you Laurence, I am shackled yes, but even a man in chains can offer help. Come with me.” The man walked towards the door behind the altar. Laurance pushed himself up and followed.

“Over there.” He pointed inside. “The weapon hidden here will assist you greatly.”

Laurence hesitated before going inside. He looked up at the man and he looked back, his eyes appeared normal, but there was an unnatural stillness within them. A stillness that filled him with dread.

“Do you have a name, angel?”

“Gabriel.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Your sister lives, Laurence.” He pointed inside the room. “This… is the only way you can save her.”

Hearing that made Laurence step back, his eyes wide with newfound purpose. He thought his sister died in the initial attack, but now an angel told him otherwise. Filled with determination, he went inside. There, under the dim shine of the moon through a crack in the ceiling he saw a splendid sword resting on a pedestal in a small corner of the room. It sang to him, called out his name, asking for him to pick it up. He closed his eyes, crossed himself, and placed his hand on its handle, pulling it out of its slumber. Laurence’s eyes shot open, pain flooding through his hand. His veins burned as his blood flowed through them. The sword’s white sheen turned black in the shadows of the room as the moon fell behind darkened clouds. His whole body shook and trembled and he fell on the floor screaming and writhing in pain. Gabriel’s voice rang out in his mind:

“I am sorry child, I imbued the blade with my power. It was the only way to give you the abilities necessary. Do not fight the pain, it will pass and this holy blade named Duskfall and its strength will be yours. Laurence, you MUST slay the deceivers that unleashed this hell on earth.”

Laurence thrashed on the floor, screaming for someone, anyone, to help him. “H-help me, mom… dad.. Please..” He cried and in his mind Wrath’s eyes stared at him.

“They took them from you, the demon with golden eyes. Do not forget it, and do not stray from your purpose. You must save her, Laurence.”

Laurence took his final breath, whispering his sister’s name. His eyes were clouded in a black haze. He did not know how long he had passed out, but when he woke up he felt strangely well. He got off the cold stone floor, the sword still firmly gripped in his hand, and he walked outside. The pain in his shoulder was nowhere to be seen, neither was the blood that was flowing from his head. He was renewed, flexing his fingers to prove to himself that fact.

How… curious.

He looked at the sword in his hand. It was long with a thin, straight edge which shone brightly in the candlelight. Without the light however, the shadows clung to it, turning it into a crystalline black.

“Gabriel…” His voice trailed off as he called out but realized he was alone. The angel was nowhere to be seen. Content, he rushed back into the altar room and picked up the blade’s scabbard tossing its strap around his back.

Laurence then left the church, no longer afraid, but inspired with purpose. Little did he know that Gabriel watched from the shadows ever since he passed out, a satisfied smirk on his cold lips. He turned around, stepping into the lightless pool. The darkness bent to his will, and he walked through. He ripped the priest's clothing from his body and the dark surrounded him like water. He kept walking through it, a bright light appearing in the distance. The blackness receded, leaving the man wearing a blue suit. He arranged his tie, and cleaned his shoulders of any dust or lint that was on him and stepped out from the shadows. He found himself in a simple hotel waiting room, the light of the candelabra above mildly annoying him. A man was sitting in front of him on a couch, loudly yelling on a phone about things he couldn't quite hear. The man then noticed him standing there and jumped from the couch, turned off the call, and bowed his head.

“Lord Baphomet! I did not expect to see you so soon.”

Nikolai woke up screaming from another nightmare. This one was different from the ones that had plagued her in previous nights. This one was more vivid, more real and defined. She had dreams like this before, but not in a long time. Not since the one where she dreamt her death. In this dream, her eyes were not her own. A horrific murder of crows surrounded him… Him? Why was he there? Seeing Constantine’s face filled her with dread and anger. Nikolai wanted to let him go, but her heart still ached painfully. She wanted to touch him, feel his skin on hers once more, hold him in her arms. He looked at her with sorrow and fear in his eyes, his weapon grasped firmly in both hands as he lunged towards her swinging. No matter how much she tried, she could not close her eyes and the blade cleaved right through her. The blade did not touch her, instead the crows flew all over, cawing and covering the sky in the darkest of nights. She looked down, a corpse looking at her, one of its eyes being pecked by the birds along with the rest of its body. That is when she screamed. The body was Yuuya.

She looked around, awake in her bed. Light shone dimly through her window. It looked cloudy outside. Sighing, she lay back down in bed feeling its warmth, it felt too warm. Her sheets were on fire. Begrudgingly she jumped out of bed and began beating the flames with one of the other pillows. Starting fires was easy to her, putting them out, not so much. But as the flames only spread more and more, engulfing even the pillow she was holding she decided to try a little test. She tossed the pillow on the bed and stretched out her left arm. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the flames, the tongues of fire billowing as they slowly turned the sheets to ash. She bound the scorching flames to her will and whipped her arm back. The fire obeyed, shooting into a column of embers and flying through the air like a serpent. Nikolai’s eyes shot open, and instinctively she moved her arm back, spinning her body. The flames followed, twirling around her, slowly coalescing into a single ball of blazing heat. She danced a few seconds longer, admiring her handiwork as she tossed the ball of light from one hand to another. She stopped, staring into it deep in thought.

Even after all this time, I still... Constantine… I cannot let go...

Her hand crushed the fireball, leaving nothing but wisps of smoke. She enjoyed the smell of ashes. The fires offered her a certain comfort now, despite being scared of them all her life. Perhaps now in her new life, the flames were meant to offer her peace. The more she learned to control them, the less afraid she became. Her eyes dashed around her, searching for a clock on one of the drawers. It was six in the morning, assuming the clock was on time.

That’s one way to wake up I suppose.

Her eyes drifted from the clock to the broken mask beside it. A reminder of the facade she had to put on for the day. She did not feel like going out yet. Nikolai wanted to be herself a bit longer. Or whatever she considered to be ‘herself’ nowadays.

We’ve been traveling for weeks now. Nothing but abandoned town after abandoned town, where is everyone?

She made sure no one was awake to see her before she stepped out onto the balcony. Breathing in the chill air she took note of the pressing silence down on the street, confirming that most of her followers were sound asleep. She closed her eyes.

No wind. Not even a whisper.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, a fierce cold howled beside her. An all too familiar feeling for her. Nikolai stepped back and opened her eyes towards her guest.

“Greetings Dear, how have you been?” Lady Death’s ethereal voice echoed in her mind. She recognized the tone. The sound of her salvation from the deepest pits of malcontent.

“You!” Nikolai shouted. “You’re Death aren’t you?”

Death was jauntily sitting on the railing, partially turned away from Nikolai. Her legs crossed one over the other out towards the sky. Nikolai could see She was wearing a pair of blackened armored boots that shone even in the lack of sunlight. Her dark silver dress rippled around her body, its edges drowned in a fading mist. The girl shuddered at the lack of a head between Death’s high collar cloak. But what scared her most was the scythe on her lap gripped gently in her gauntlets. The handle was lengthy and it seemed almost not there, transparent. Trying to focus on it hurt Nikolai’s eyes, like a faded blurry image. The blade of the weapon however, was perfectly clear. It was unnaturally long and its edge gleamed with an icy glow. She feared the touch of that blade more than anything, just looking at it seemed to freeze the fires in her veins.

“I do prefer being called Lady Death, Dear. You have been a busy little bee haven’t you?” She continued. “My, so many people following you in such little time. You’re doing quite well. And they’re all so delightfully afraid of you.”

Nikolai was quiet.

“What’s wrong Dear, do I scare you? After all I’ve done for you?” Her voice echoed directly in her mind sending a shiver down her spine.

“Not… entirely, I’m just confused. Its hard to talk to someone when they lack a head.”

Lady Death flipped her position facing her and gave a better look of her onyx armor from the front. Nikolai’s eyes went wide at something else however, as Death was now wearing her broken plague doctor mask. It floated above her chest, as if worn by an invisible being.

“Better? I must say, you have picked quite a symbol for yourself, wonderful times these were.”

“What do you want?” Nikolai shouted angrily.

Death paused for a second, as if annoyed by the disrespect with which she was being addressed. “When I brought you back, I did so for you to do my bidding, you haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“Forgot… No, of course not. Who do you want me to cleanse though? I haven't seen another soul in weeks. No human. No demon. No monsters, nothing. Everyone else is obedient to me.” Her eyes shone with a glint of unhinged desire. “I accepted your conditions, and I know what to do. If I started mercilessly killing everyone I ran into I would become a threat, a target. People would run from me, they would fight back. But this...” She walked closer to the railing arms outstretched, careful not to touch the scythe as Death gently pulled it away from her. “...like this, they follow me, willingly. No matter how scared they are, I am a beacon of their salvation. With my influence growing I can cleanse whoever I want, I can kill whoever without cause, because my word is that of God. I am their liberator! I am the light bringer!”

Nikolai’s arms awoke with fire in a display of strength. She extinguished the flames when she put her hands on the railing. A deep silence settled between the two. Nikolai stared at her mask and felt Death’s eyes, somewhere behind the hole and glass, staring back at her. She could not stop feeling the cold.

Say something.. She angrily thought to herself. I should be thankful. Without her, I would still be rotting in a tomb somewhere. But… she terrifies me.

“As I said, Dear, you are doing well. But you are isolated. I am here to offer you guidance and information.” Lady Death leaned closer and placed two cold fingers from her gauntlet on Nikolai’s right cheek. “I’m very fond of you, you know, after all, every Queen needs a Knight.”

Or a sacrificial pawn...

“So... what would you have me do?” Nikolai said, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing away from Death’s touch.

“Keep doing what you’re doing. Gather people, strength, the more souls the better. Become a beacon for humanity. Good or bad.”

Nikolai nodded.

“However, certain things are moving faster than I had hoped. Heaven and Hell are brewing a war and if you’re not careful you might find yourself trapped between the two. Demons are making moves, spurred into action by your ritual.” Lady Death paused, brandishing her scythe to the side. “A few of your friends are in Gausville. They have been for a while. They were split up, and they’re waiting on the others. But they won't come, not before you make it there.”

“Gausville?” The girl proclaimed. “...Gausville, that's where… what’s his name… His dad... I can't remember its been so long.” She looked down disappointed at her long faded memories. “Why would I go to Gausville? And what friends?” Nikolai said, her voice brim with spite. “I don’t have friends.”

“Precisely. You will go there and finish what you started. You will kill the Angel, and the boy as well.”

Nikolai’s eyes went wide open. The blue embers on her left eye scorched wilder and wilder taking on a crimson hue.

“What… boy?” She asked, her voice trembling, already knowing the answer.

Death ignored her, staring at her. Nikolai glared back with bloodshot eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but death spoke first.

“You’re close to the nearby harbor city of Brenwood. Go there and take a ferry up the river to Gausville. You’ll be close enough to your targets from there. And Nikolai?”

“Yes?” She said, concerned by being addressed by her name.

"Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little attachment to the girl. I would be careful if I was you. Those that lurk in darkness will exploit every weakness they can find...” Death’s final sentence echoed out, as her cloak expanded and enveloped Nikolai, clouding her vision in darkness. The girl screamed out that name once more, waking up in her bed. Nikolai looked at her surroundings, the bed, the sheets and pillows. Everything was in perfect condition.

Of course… Death only visits me in dreams... She thought. Her mind ran over her visions, and Constantine’s image remained in her mind. Tears began streaming down the right side of her face. She placed a finger on her cheek and looked at the droplet. The sight of it filled her with rage. Her scars surged, alight with hate. Her tears turned to smoke on her face. Placing her palm on the sheets, she unleashed a slow trail of flames onto the bed, slowly setting it ablaze. She got off, dressed in her usual attire as the room crawled into an inferno. As she put her mask on, she clenched her fist into the air, draining every spark of flame from the room into her palm. This time however, she did not crush the ball of fire that gathered in her hand. She admired her handiwork: a slightly more charred version of her room. Then she spun around and threw the fireball through the balcony windows. The inferno amplified into a massive explosion that sent bits of molten metal, glass, and cement into a fiery rain below.

That should wake everyone up. Come now, we’ve got a long, long day ahead of us. Nikolai thought, smiling sadistically beneath her plague bringer mask.