"Outwitted (Part Seventeen)" an original work of fiction for #365da...

This is today's offering (day 176) for @mydivathings' #365daysofwriting challenge (click here to see her current post)

Today's picture prompt (below) is a Photo by Kalen Emsley on Unsplash

I dreamed strange feverish dreams while Pewds worked to save my life.

I fought monsters in dark forests, thick with trees dripping hot thick sap that smelt like blood. The beasts - many limbed things - fell from the trees, surrounding me, reaching for me with sharp claws.

Some of the creatures wore the faces of Grevyl and my sister. They smiled as they tried to kill me, dancing around me faster and faster, their needle claws closer and closer. And they laughed when I defeated them, stabbing them, over and over, with the short sword I carried. As their blood flowed onto the ground around me, life drained from their faces, changing them once more. Each one bore the same innocent face. Once more, I realised, I was killing the serving girl from my sisters secret garden. And I knew I had no choice. I would do it - I needed to do it - again. And again. And again.

But the worst of the dark monsters I battled with, were the winged creatures that swooped through the trees. They had no faces. All light was sucked into a the dark swirling hole that sat in the place where the face should be.

And yet, despite it’s facelessness, I realised, I recognised the creature.

I knew it well.

I held my sword up in the air and it was taken from me. Snatched from my hand by a cackling faceless demon that swept through the trees. It landed, soundlessly on the forest floor, facing me. It roared and the space where it’s face should have been erupted in black fire, that burned the trees around it. I stumbled back, from the intense heat, falling to my knees. The creature towered above me and I closed my eyes, prepared to die.

But I did not die.

I opened my eyes. I was standing in a desolate place, surrounded by snow capped black mountains. There was a lake below, dark and lifeless.

Beside it, looking upon the black water, her back towards me, was my sister.

“It’s not too late, dear brother” she said, over her shoulder. “Your chosen path has many forks. There are many destinations. You can choose another way.”

“I do not know how,” I said, simply. I shrugged. “I don’t know if I want to.”

“Come and join us. We have need of your talents, dear brother.”

“Grevyl does not want me,” I said, sounding so much like the spoilt child I was still.

“Grevyl is no longer the master.”

I said nothing. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was another way. Perhaps it wasn’t too late.

I opened my mouth to say something but instead of words a blackness began to pour from my lips. It surrounded me, squeezing me, comforting me. I felt its needs, its desires, and I smiled, releasing it, letting it rush towards the figure by the lake.

“Goodbye, dear brother,” I heard my sister say.

And then I awoke.

...

Next part: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-18-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-the-365daysofwriting-challenge

"Outwitted (Part Seventeen)" an original work of fiction for #365daysofwriting challenge