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roselyn-writing · 11 months ago

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When a rose turns black Chapter 18.

A/N: Gif isn’t mine. I found it in pinterest. Also, mentions of blood, So reader discretion is advised.

“The Hand of Darkness”

A large Obsidian Castle was in the heart of Tle’ktiva. An abandoned land of Virginia. Its people abandoned due to the harsh conditions, and the shortage of water and food. Thus, They better abandon it for a better place to live.

The Obsidian castle didn’t lose its charm and beauty. Even though, It had been centuries since it had been built. It’s still the same as the people who had abandoned it. Unaffected by time or erosion.

The Castle is decorated with Obsidian from top to bottom. Silver accents on the windows and doors, giving it a touch of dark royalty. Its towering spires, adorned with intricate designs, pierce the heavens as if reaching out to the celestial objects. The castle’s stone walls are imbued with Andesine gems. Which gave a glowing effect from a distance - Making it look as if it was kissed by the eerie glow of red lights that dance like ethereal spirits.

The winds of the north howled and whispered. As if it were singing of pain and melancholy. The sands that covered the place are dark and unforgivable as if were kissed by the Virginian sun, Much for Mariuz’s taste and style.

In the Obsidian Castle, Mariuz sat on his throne. The throne room is similar to the Castle’s outer design. The walls are covered with various of red-blood gems and paintings of Mariuz. The floor is covered with red as if were a sea of blood, And the dais on Mariuz’s throne room, Is decorated with black gems and small blood-red spirals, giving it a dark royalty vibes to match the Castle’s dark aesthetic.

Maruiz was still sitting on his throne like a King. He was looking at the paintings of him. He was bored and unhappy.

Then she came, A beautiful, tall woman with long glossy black hair decorated with the finest gold hair accessories – A face that makes the hardest of men falter easily, A curvy figure makes the mouth water, She wears a dress of old Kuwaiti fashion trimmed with gold sequins in a line from top to bottom. The golden embroidery on her bodice resembled thousands of dancing fireflies. Long, graceful sleeves, Edged with frothy golden lace, Flowed like waves lapping at the shore. The neckline of her dress, just like the dress of a temptress, was adorned with the finest of gold jewellery. And finally, Paisley shawls patterns on both sides of her red dress – Just like a gracious tapestry woven with golden strings, That was made with love and passion. That dress — It exquisitely fit her smokey brown eyes. She was desire-given form.

She trekked confidently to Maruiz as she smiled widely at him. Her lips – As red as blood. The clacking of her red heels – A sensual song to the ears.

She stopped in front of him. “You called for me? Sir.” She asked seductively.

“Are you done with your ‘playing time’?” He pointed and asked. His tone is unamused.

“Yes, My lord,” She smiled innocently at him.

She blinked, For a second, She saw beautiful red houses nestled in a small village and their vibrant warm hue shimmered in the sunlight. In a place far away somewhere. For a second, she thought she recognised it – just like somewhere far in the deep recreational of her mind. She blinked once again. Then it was all gone, Just like a mirage. She is adamantly sure, She saw this place somewhere. Somehow.

Her mind is an empty canvas. Despite, The glimpses she couldn’t get the whole picture.

Maruiz's loud and piercing voice cut her unending stream of thoughts. She looked at him and smiled once again.

“I see.” He finally replied as he surveyed her to every single detail. “You are free to go,”

She grinned. Showing her pearly white teeth. “Thank you, My lord,”

And with that, She walked away, her heels clacking, their sounds fading into the distance.

Mariuz, His gaze was on the direction that she she departed from. Much to his dismay, She started to have glimpses of her past — her memories refused to fade, As her old, real self.

Maruiz cursed loudly. He didn’t care if he was heard. His plan is starting to crumble — His world is crumbling, Sooner or later, She will remember who she was. And — She will comes for blood.

The early morning sun quickly climbed in the sky. Its warm orange-yellow ray bathed the sky in golden radiance. The orange glow of the vibrant sun spread throughout the sky, quickly filling the sky and warming the early morning air.

Aliyaa groggily woke from some noises nearby. She was disoriented due to her just waking up minutes prior. She stifled a yawn, extreme grogginess and fatigue were weighing her down. She suppressed the urge to go back to sleep because she didn’t want to hear these annoying sounds again.

In the distance, An animal, perhaps a goat, bleating hauntingly, It reminded her of the horrible story she heard from her uncle a day prior. It was about a goat that had eaten its owner. Aliyaa’s body shook, Her skin crawled and she is uncomfortable. Her body trembled with fear.

She forcibly closed her eyes. Her mind, Instantly brought an image of a scary goat – blood dripped from its teeth – Its white fur drenched in blood too. Its face was an image of horror, black beady eyes devoid of emotion – razor-sharp horns ready to pierce her and kill her.

The sound of the goat's hooves hitting the ground echoed through the air, growing louder and louder with each passing moment. As Aliyaa heard it approach, her heart began to beat faster and faster, almost threatening to burst out of her chest. Her breathing quickened, coming in short gasps as she struggled to keep her composure. Despite her efforts, she felt herself becoming frozen as if she were a block of ice.

she saw the silhouette of a goat, its eyes glowing with an eerie light. Trembling with fear, she could hear its hooves scraping against the ground, creating an ominous rhythm. She quickly buried herself inside her blanket. She couldn’t bear to look at that goat – Just like it was possessed by an evil spirit. As she lay frozen in terror, the goat's haunting bleats echoed through the place, sending chills down her spine. Aliyaa couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched by something malevolent, something far more sinister than any ordinary goat. She recited every prayer she remembered. She hoped beyond hope that the goat leave her alone.

Sheer curiosity took the better of her. She peeked her head outside of the blanket. She saw a white goat. It stood 20 feet away from here. It seems young and lively, Its white fur glimmering in the early-morning sun. It has slender and delicate legs that it seemed the slightest breeze could send it flying away – small and short horns that undoubtedly would not be sharp enough to pierce through something, perhaps, Like a skin, Its eyes are a pool of glowing topaz.

Unexpectedly, Aliyaa laughed out loud. Her laughter was due to her realization that her fear of a harmless and cute animal like a goat was unnecessary and stupid. She had panicked for no reason, her fear and panic were irrational.

She took some leftovers of rice and bread. She offered it to the goat. The goat happily ate the food offered by the nice human in front of her.

She was looking at the goat while it was eating. She was smiling and happy. Admiring the cute animal while it is eating. Her attention was focused on the goat until she heard the voice of a man.

A man in his late 40s came. He has light brown eyes. A Khaki skin tone as the sand of a Virginian desert, He has a comforting feeling to him. He is handsome - A bit taller than an average male Virginian - He is standing 6 and a half feet tall. Making his height almost 190cm. He wore traditional shepherd attire. Simple brown robe and white pants.

He smiled at her. “My name is Samer and I apologise for the inconvenience.” He said sincerely. “My goat always roams away from the herd.”

Aliyaa smiled back at him. There was no harm done, The goat was peaceful and harmless, It made Aliyaa happy; having it around her. She was familiar with goats and sheeps. She always helps her father in herding them. So, she isn’t new to this whole herding thing.

“My name is Aliyaa, nice to meet you Samer and don’t worry.” She replied. Her tone is calm and soft. “There’s nothing to apologise for,”

Aliyaa’s father: Hadi Aepel, He came with his brother Massoud, In tow. They looked at the man and his goat. They didn’t look they just woke up from sleeping.

Hadi surveyed the scene in front of him with his eyes. “What’s going on here?” Hadi asked.

“Sir, I just came to return the goat.” The man answered. His tone is genuine and sincere.

Hadi nodded, His brother Massoud didn’t say anything. He just looked back and forth between his brother and the man in front of them.

The man bid them farewell and left them. His goat trotted behind him. The trio smiled as they looked at Samer and his friendly goat.

The trio, blissfully unaware that they were being watched by a dark entity — Two hands holding an onyx crystal ball, His cold, unforgiving slate-eyes gluded on it, Anzir, grinned cruelly as he saw the scene in front of his very eyes.

“Truly, Ignorance is a bliss,” He muttered to himself, Then he burst out laughing. His laughter resonated around the place. It was so loud as if it was shaking the place with its intensity.

Anzir, The current aspect of Darkness, decided spy on the trio for a little longer. He rarely shows interest in people. But unfortunately for the trio, They piqued his interest; and his attention isn’t something that one should attract. When they do, It is about to get devastating.

May the Remained-One helps whoever Anzir set his gaze on. For, No one can help them and save them for his darkness.

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vishnavishivaa · 9 months ago

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Chapter 3: Inner Ramblings (Sambandham: War of Hearts)

Links to:

Prologue- https://www.tumblr.com/harinishivaa/741119072854573056/prologue-sambandham-war-of-hearts?source=share

Chapter 1- https://www.tumblr.com/harinishivaa/741675299243261952/chapter-1-starting-fresh-sambandham-war-of?source=share

Chapter 2- https://www.tumblr.com/harinishivaa/743447339726995456/chapter-2-picturesque-sambandham-war-of-hearts?source=share

******

Two weeks later

Chennai, Tamil Nadu

"Thiju!"

Kshithija's eyes met Nila's bright, lucid eyes, shining with an excitement that the former was sure was reflected in her own eyes. Nila had matured even more, her hair in a loose ponytail, long, swishing around behind her back in her excitement. Her beauty had a glow to it, the glow that only romantic feelings acknowledged, accepted and returned could give one.

Had Aditya asked her out?

Kshithija thought all of this, as she embraced her sister tightly. Nila often felt like a part of Kshithija's heart, an integral part of it. Without Nila, her heart would not be complete, just like without Arun, her heart had no blooming. Even through the harsh rejection, and the many years it had been since she had been in anything more than vague and distinct contact with him and his family, he still ran through her heart and veins, like he had never left it.

And he hadn't. She had tried to be as with-the-flow in healing as possible. Though loving him from many thousand miles away was very different from loving him when in close contact. And she doubted the intensity between them would have died down; in fact, if she could hazard a guess, it was going to be much more intense. More than it had ever been.

How she could guess that she had not divined yet, but she knew her gut too well to doubt it anymore.

"What is it, Vaandu?" Nila asked very affectionately, giving Kshithija a knowing look, tinged with some shyness rare in her.

"Did you end up getting a date, Akka?" Kshtihija whispered, not wanting her uncle, who she had embraced earlier to hear just yet. The delightful blush on Nila's face, splashing across her bronzed skin told Kshithija that Aditya had finally asked Nila out. "Oh! He finally asked you out then."

"He did," Nila agreed, the dark blush filling her cheeks, as she looked at Kshithija, the latter smiling brightly.

"What great news to get as I return, Akka. May you always always be happy," Kshithija wished her cousin, hugging her once more, before both grabbed the suitcases and wheeled it to the car, Kshithija more than ready to return home, to the safety of the place she grew up in.

Kshithija was curled up in her favourite nook on the first floor of her house, the couch as comfortable as her usual bean bag back at London. She looked at the book open on her lap, smiling at the worn out pages. She had read this multiple times for comfort, and somehow felt the urge to pick up the book at that moment.

If she thought deeply, she would know why she was in this state; it had everything to do with Arun, with having to meet Arun again. Maybe not immediately, but they ran in very similar social circles, that meeting him socially would happen at some point. Further, the closeness of the two families also guaranteed that she would have to meet him in informal family gatherings.

Since the loss of her father, her Periappa and Sundar uncle, Arun's father, had bonded even more. While both had been close before, the loss of Appa had sealed the friendship in a deeper, more instinctual way than ever before. When they teamed up, it was known that they could win any argument. Given that she was still the heir of her father's company, and Arun was going to be Managing Director eventually, she suspected matchmaking endeavors.

Would she be able to deal with them? She was after all well aware of the ways this set up will happen. And worse, if Iramathi wanted it to happen even now. Kshithija's affection for Iramathi had not receded by any means, and she was aware she was often a pushover, especially with people she loved. But one thing she had gotten with clarity during her time away was perspective.

Iramathi was loving, but she was also not above pushing people together if she thought it would help her family and the mega empire they ran. Aditya could be ruthless sometimes, despite being gentle as well when needed, though it was not the case every time it was needed. Paavai was a little firecracker, and her two brothers often spoiled her, which often gave her a sense of superiority, despite the genuineness that ran in her. Kalyaani was quiet, but could be very cunning when needed. And Arun...

Arun was more morally righteous and truthful than any of his siblings. But he also had a habit of not trusting anyone easily, despite having known them for a long time. While there was nothing wrong with being cautious, there was wrong with actually believing rumours more than the friendship that had been shared for many years.

She sighed to herself. This was the exact path she did not want herself in, and she had, of course found herself venturing into it. Being a psychologist could not prevent her from completely getting over her overthinking habits, it could only help her understand who could advise and guide her through it, leading to healing.

What was she to do though, if such a situation came up?

"Thiju!"

Kshithija was bought out of her thought spiral by her younger brother, who bounded in and plopped down next to her. They were best friends, having only one and a half years between them.

"Yes Kumara?" she asked, playfully rolling her eyes, giggling at his mock offended look. "What do you need me for, mischief maker?"

"Thiju, we both know that you are the biggest mischief maker between the two of us," he nudged her, making her laugh in agreement, responding, "That is a secret!"

The two siblings basked in the cheerful silence, before Kumaran again broke it.

"The social events of the year are starting, Thiju. In about a month," Kumaran announced. Kshithija knew well that he was aware that she had kept herself informed of all this.

"And?"

"And, Periappa hopes you would join us this time," Kumaran said softly. "But you must know..."

"Arun will be there," she sighed softly. She took in the concerned look her brother threw at her, and squeezed his arm, saying, "Well, I will have to meet him at some time, don't I?"

andha vezham nokkida, ingu thaazhai nokkida, oru mouna kaaviyam pirakka

******

Glossary:

andha vezham nokkida, ingu thaazhai nokkida, oru mouna kaaviyam pirakka- That elephant approached, as did the thaazham flower; that meeting gave birth to a silent epic of sorts.

@thelekhikawrites @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @ragkee @chemicalmindedlotus @dr-scribbler @willkatfanfromasia @balladedutempsjadis @freeunknownwasteland @ramcharanobsessed @gemmusings @vijayasena @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @moon-880 @sakhiiii @thereader-radhika @ambidextrousarcher @celestesinsight @yehsahihai @thegleamingmoon @dumdaradumdaradum @rang-lo @ragkee @vijayasena Please let me know your thoughts!

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heyy-dont-mind-me · 5 months ago

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No one: How it feels when the sugar, caffeine, music, delusion and creative rush hits all at once on a Sunday morning at 2AM:

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rita-rae-siller · 14 days ago

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Following Orders

Wip: The Lies They Tell

Genres: Dark Fantasy, Queer Fantasy

Aalvor looked up from his desk at the back of the library, nestled in the shadows of the towering shelves and the second story balcony, when someone called his name softly from the doorway. He set down his quill and rose from his seat to salute Grand Cloak Eon, his master, as the old man beckoned for him to approach with one hand from the doorway. Hastily, Aalvor grabbed the candle lighting his desk before he rushed to him and knelt obediently. He was supposed to be in bed at this hour, but sleep had proved elusive. It wasn't against the rules for him to wander the citadel grounds. But he doubted his master was pleased about having to hunt him down in the middle of the night. Fort Oephala was a massive complex. Finding a single person could take hours, especially if they weren't where they ought to be.

Behind the Grand Cloak, a stream of other White Cloaks marched quietly down the hall, filling the air with muffled whispers, rustling of cloaks, and clanking boots. and . Most carried lanterns or candles to light their way down the hall. It was well after midnight. A handful of knights were always up to oversee patrols and night time work, but the group moving past the Grand Cloak was too large to be a patrol passing by, or a group on their way out on deployment.

"Has something happened?” Aalvor asked.

"It is the Most Holy, Captain," Master Eon said. "An owl just arrived. The emperor's retinue approaches the gates of the citadel. We are all to be present to greet Him."

Aalvor's stomach dropped to his feet. Last he'd heard of the emperor, he'd gone north on a diplomatic mission with the Zhariik. Garmora had never been on good terms with the denizens of the Amber Sea. He knew the emperor well. And though Dioclaetus played the politician's game well, he was no diplomat. Like his father, he was a conquerer at heart, marching on the same warpath as all those before him. Eager for nomad blood, oblivious to consequence.

"Is He alright?" Aalvor asked.

"The letter was written by His hand. I can only hope that means yes." Eon gave him a thoughtful look. "You worry for Him?"

"It is a selfish worry," Aalvor said with a half-hearted chuckle.

Eon simply smiled at this. "Come. I am sure our worries are unfounded. The ink of His signature was still wet, and written with steady hand. "

Aalvor followed Eon out of the hall. The two of them stood with the other knights at the forefront of the crowd gathered in the courtyard. The entire population of the citadel seemed to have mustered to greet the emperor. Even the children were out of bed. The educators stood at the rear of their charges, shushing them and organizing their messy ranks.

All the knights were in uniform. Many looked disheveled, and were fidgeting with their appearance in their places. The other knights of the High Table—the order’s upper echelon—wore their parade armor. Aalvor stuck out like a sore thumb amongst his fellow leaders. He only wore his night clothes, a fur-lined cloak and leather boots. Thoroughly embarrassed, he stood up straighter and awaited the emperor's arrival.

They waited for almost half an hour before the emperor arrived. The massive metal gates of the citadel swung inward on silent metal hinges, and a group of twenty horses--Red Legionaires, another group of devout followers of Gora. At the forefront was a man Aalvor knew well. Commander Narsuss Radhmi, captain of the Gold Division that protected the emperor. He rode a massive buckskin charger painted with hundreds of red runes. The same red markings that covered the stallion also decorated a great deal of Radhmi's face. Tahli--Gora's sacred blood tattoos. The more tahli a warrior bore, the higher their rank. Radhmi had little unmarked skin left, rivaling the Grand Cloak himself.

As the sound of thundering hooves quieted and the group came to a stop before the High Table, the sharp cries of an infant pierced the night. Radhmi dismounted first and began to fidget with something on the back of his saddle. As he pulled the bundle loose, Aalvor realized it was the source of the crying. He was so concerned by the screams that he didn't notice the emperor approaching until he stood a few feet from him, and the others of the High Table bowed. Aalvor quickly did the same.

"Rise, Brother. I would see your face," Dioclaetus said.

Hesitantly, Aalvor did as he was told and met his eye. The emperor glowed under his white hooded robe. Unlike Radhmi and every other White Cloak, the tahli the emperor bore were gold. They gave off a faint amber light, and his eyes shined just as brilliantly in the dark. It was hard to hold his gaze when he seemed to be looking right through Aalvor.

"I'd heard you'd been promoted. Father may be right about you yet, even from the land of the dead." Dioclaetus looked Aalvor up and down, his tone clearly suggesting he thought otherwise.

"Knight Captain Aalvor is an exemplary new addition to the High Table. Whatever you need of him, he is up for the task, Most Holy," Eon said.

"We shall see about that."

Dioclaetus turned to Radhmi and gestured for the child. He took it with a look of disdain and held it out at arm's length. Aalvor barely had a good grip on the infant's swaddle before Dioclaetus let go. With a scowl, Aalvor tucked the poor thing into the crook of his arm. He checked it over for any injuries, a little unsure of what to look for. The child was a week old at the most, tiny and fragile. Judging by the cries, it had been sometime since the poor thing had eaten.

At first, Aalvor wondered if this was a niece or nephew being given to the White Cloak. This had been Aalvor's same exact fate--the third son of an emperor, cast away to be a soldier that wouldn't compete with his older brothers, yet was conveniently kept safe in the event he was needed. As he pulled aside the linen swaddle, he spied pointed ears. Aalvor gasped and looked to his brother for explanation. This was no Garmoran child. The other Cloaks of the High Table behind Aalvor peered curiously at the child. Those that saw it began to whisper amongst them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Aalvor demanded. "You would steal a Zhariik child? What happened to peace, Brother? Have you already forgotten Father's catastrophic loss in the Amber Sea? We have no soldiers to hold the nomads at bay."

"You will remember, Brother, that I am emperor now. I will forgive this transgression once, but remember your place," Dioclaetus glowered. "This child was found abandoned on our retreat after the Zhariik attacked us."

"Why is it here?" Aalvor asked. "Why bring it to us?"

"She is your new responsibility. Your first act as my Right Hand will be handling this assignment." Dioclaetus looked down at Aalvor with an icy look. They had never been close, but this level of coldness was foreign to Aalvor. "Protect her and Matilde, do not let them out of your sight. Eredahl is not safe for either of them."

"Right Hand? Aalvor is a sworn brother of the Cloak. He can take no land or titles," Eon cautioned. There was a twinge of apprehension in the old man's voice.

"My brother will serve, and you will not question me again, Eon." Dioclaetus turned and walked slowly back toward his horse. "One more thing. Aalvor?"

"Yes, Brother?" Aalvor asked.

"I expect you in uniform when in my presence, regardless of the time of day." Dioclaetus gave him one final disapproving look before he turned his horse. Just as quickly as they had rushed in, the emperor and his guard left, leaving the entire citadel dumbfound.

Aalvor barely waited until his brother had turned his back before he stalked toward the western barracks. The head educator, Sister Urzala, ushered him inside to escape the cold night air. She led him through the main area to the nursery where the other infants were housed, grabbing one of the wet nurses along the way.

“What have we here?” Urzala asked. “Is this one of your own blood, Captain?”

“No. See for yourself what she is.”

This visibly puzzled the old woman. He turned the child toward her. Almost instantly, she recoiled at the sight of pointed ears as the child continued to wail. “Good gods above.”

“She was found abandoned in the grasslands. Our orders are to raise her with Matilde. They will be my charges once they are old enough.” Aalvor attempted to pass her to the wet nurse, but she recoiled and took several steps back. He scowled at her. This was only an infant, whose only sin was being born to her people. The only harm she was capable of was damaging the ears of those around her with the sheer might of her crying. “Are you so afraid of a starving infant, Sister? Feed her before we all go deaf.”

“Yes, Captain,” the wet nurse said quietly. She stepped forward and took the child into her arms and turned away to feed her by the fireplace.

“What do you think this means, Captain?” Urzala asked. “Do you believe that he just found her out there?”

“I do not believe him. But this child is here now. She is one of us whether we like it or not.”

“What will you name her?”

“Name her?” Aalvor couldn’t help but chuckle apprehensively. Children were not his favorite to deal with. They were erratic, and the crying never ceased to make him shudder. “Isn’t that your job, Sister?”

“You’ve been given an apprentice in infancy. It is customary for the master to name the apprentice. She will be your first, won’t she?” Urzala gave him a tired smile. “Think on it. A child requires a name. Make it a good one.”

“No need,” Aalvor sighed. He watched the wet nurse gently bounce the babe. She had quieted down now, happily nursing. He thought for a moment, and his mind wandered back to the old scroll he’d been transcribing in the library. “Alura.”

“A foreign child given the name of the Mother of Garmora.” Urzala tilted her head, considering him with a serious look now. “Names have power, Captain. Is this your final decision?”

“I am sure,” Aalvor said. “She will be a fine warrior. I can tell already. The name will suit her well.”

“Then it is settled. May the Mighty One bless her.”

“In His name,” Aalvor replied. An unusual feeling swelled in his chest as he watched the infant nurse. Pride, mixed with a healthy dose of terror. His first apprentice would be one for the history books.

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