Finding Home (Chapter Six)
_Note: This story is based on, and set in, the "Cold Blood" universe which was made and written by Onyx Tao. Please read his brilliant stories! _ **_OBSERVE: My storyline, "Finding Home", is not to be considered canon to the Cold Blood universe, there are bound to be several differences between this "alternate universe" to Cold Blood and the actual one. So if you're a fan of Cold Blood, please don't be mad if you spot several "flaws" within this alternate Cold Blood universe. Artistic freedom and yadda yadda... :)
Also: This is the *third* and last chapter of Part 2. It will cover Livius' past, and might contain... unpleasant - aswell as pleasant - scenes. Unless it sucks. Then there will only be unpleasant scenes, inevitably. :) ..... oh but, do be warned. Gruesome violence is described. Viewer discretion is adviced and bla bla bla blahhh...._**
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-Chapter 6- -Shackled in Memory Lane-
"Things would have been so very different if Lord Twilight was host, that's all I am saying...", muttered the exhausted Cook, while carrying trays out into the garden alongside Livius, who merely smiled at the grumpiness displayed by the old gentleman. All morning, they had been working on the last details concerning the outdoor reception of Lord Steam and his entourage. It was a task that had befallen any of the volunteering residents, and every single one had shown up, as expected. Naturally, the conservative Cook was best clad of all, wearing a suit made of the finest silk. There wasn't a whole lot of work to do, but it was fairly disorganized and impulsive, which is exactly why Cook was agitated. He wanted things orderly and done in advance. This was the very opposite, and all morning he had complained. Although the summer had passed, it was an unusually warm early autumn, and while dead leaves were scattered about, the gentle wind brought no cold in its wake.
"Oh come now, you love it here. These formal occations are few and far between, so there is no point in getting distressed. Besides, it's good to step out of your habits once in a while", Livius jovially replied. He was met with a cold glance, and what sounded almost like a subdued growl.
"Every day here is a breach on my habits, Livius. I was hoping that this day would prove different, given its official decree. But I suppose it is pointless to complain. It's always like this. I just wish he could do things properly for once. And to have us prepare dinner out here in the garden? Unthinkable. It is as if he truly seeks to spite the visiting mage. Lord Twilight would have none of it!"
It wasn't that Livius couldn't see his point. This whole arrangement had been pretty haphazardly devised, especially considering the rank and status of the visiting bull. Lord Steam was known throughout the region for being a very accomplished mage, aswell as the owner and keeper of a very renown and large estate. According to hearsay, he was strict and conservative in his view on humans aswell as most anything else, making him stand out slightly to the others in the clan. There was apparently nothing he loathed more than interacting with Lord Shade during council meetings, due to him being the polar opposite in just about any issue. Then again, since Lord Shade rarely presented himself during such gatherings, there had only been a handful of occations where the two mages had met in person.
Livius approached the table with the tray he carried. Although he had decided to wear a rather long, grayish robe for the occation, in order to blend in better with the other humans, he was still able to move rather nimbly despite its inhibiting design. He smiled when he saw Philon farther away, seemingly awaiting the carriage that would bring the visiting bull. Livius could clearly see him in the distance, waving one of his arms, but something was strange about the sight. It took Livius a good second or two to realize what was wrong in the picture, but then it mercilessly dawned on him - a realization that struck him like lightning:
Philon's head was missing. In it's place, a vivid spray of blood spurted from the animated and still-standing body, which kept on waving it's supposedly dead arm like nothing had happened. Livius felt his pulse rise rapidly, and with shaking hands he quickly set the tray down into a pool of blood upon the table. It didn't immediately register to him as something out of the ordinary, but before he could set off running towards his master, he halted in recollection of what he had just seen. Looking down at the table, he saw it was filled to its brim with chopped parts of humans; entrails and limbs alike, twitching their pale dance of death amidst the blood, falling down along the edges of the long table. At the center was Philon's head, his tongue hanging out lifelessly, swimming in his own blood aswell as the blood of his human servants. Even before Livius could react to what he saw, the severed head was twisted into an expression of purest pain, as the hinges of its jawbones bent over until they cracked in an anguished scream towards the heavens, eyes popping out from an invisible, demonic pressure that could not be explained.
In a swirl of a black vortex, Livius found himself drowning, or perhaps he was flying? The nauseating feeling of turbulence and pressure gnawed at his bones with black wires of misdirections, as if an unknown force tore at him. Piercing rays of brightness tore through the veil, and the shadows beneath him dissipated, almost as if they had been eaten away. Slowly the confines of reality began to disappear. In a flicker of what must have been a twisted variation of consciousness, his eyelids allowed themselves to partially open to a waking world, but it wasn't House Shade any longer. Instead, a blurry mess greeted him, and the distant muffles of his own drowzy voice trickled like manifestations of drowned confusion, as he babbled nonsensically to the air. Was he even awake, or had he been transported into a merciless, ghostlike dream through a dark and cruel spell?
A form appeared before his eyes. Suddenly he remembered a minotaur from another time and place, another life almost.. a brown minotaur. But who was he? Livius tried to remember, but couldn't make sense out of the situation, which felt alien to him. Livius could almost make out a deep voice in the estranged room, clearly belonging to the entity that was very likely that other minotaur that was supposed to somehow mean something to him.
"Go back to sleep, I will stay.."
Sleep? Stay? What is happening? Have I gone insane?, thought Livius. His mind was almost burning from a vivid barrage of questions that could not be answered. Why wasn't he at House Shade? Was this a spell, or was it all symptoms of an episode of a psychotic breakdown? What was truly real and what wasn't? With the gentle caress from a big, strong hand across Livius' face, the human sank, once more, into a deep basin of darkness.
Livius found himself at House Shade once more. It was daytime, just like it had been recently. Perhaps he had managed to shake off the illusions (psychosis?), but a notion remained lodged in his mind. It was something sinister that he could not rid himself of; a vague emotional concept lingering, an obscure idea that appeared like a manifestation of someone elses memories, trying to trap him in a state of constant repetition, a flow of reminders haunting him forever of what was once that person's everything. It was odd though, that the other person's memories were so much like Livius' own. As if the memories truly were his own. It felt even more odd that his present time here, at House Shade, felt like it was a memory too. Wasn't this happening now? Where had he been recently? And then that dark room with a brown minotaur named... named...
"Livius?", asked a wellknown voice.
"Huh?", Livius replied with a startled jerk. He turned to his side and noticed Philon. He was standing beside him, slightly ahead of the table, and Livius no longer held a tray.
"You seemed a little unfocused, my dear tray bearer. Just wanted to make sure you're still with us".
Livius noticed Philon's smile as the big minotaur panned his head back to watch farther ahead of him. Livius was still a bit shaken, wondering what was dream and what was reality. Looking back quickly at the long table, he could see that it was all set and fine. His tray had been carefully placed there amongst the others. There was no blood, there were no victims. It all looked resplendant, in fact. Why then, this sensation of impending disaster looming in his mind? Had this happened before, or was it about to happen? Was it a memory or a premonition? It was as if he had been transported to an alternate universe, with a new outcome waiting to be realized. Could all that once transpired in another state of existence somehow be changed in this current one? Although the thoughts should appear insane to him, they made perfect sense in a fashion begging to be indescribable, yet wasn't.
"Oh look, there he is!", exclaimed an excited Philon, to which Livius gave an immediate turn. Glancing quickly at his master to make sure he really was there, he looked past him and down the fields farther down.
There was indeed a small entourage approaching House Shade. They had begun their walk from a gathering of several parked wagons. Perhaps a dozen minotaurs moved in tow behind a very large, ebon black one. The minotaur followers had to have been guards, Livius deduced, as they wore various layers of heavy cloth padding, and ringmail armor with some heavy plates on top of that. While they had weapons, none were unsheathed. The intricate attire of the preceding minotaur could be seen even from this far away, as the minotaur mage towered above even his own guards when he walked steadily along the path. Although his mostly deep blue attire appeared very luxurious, it was also quite close to skimpy in its adornment, leaving very much of his chest and arms to be seen. As they came closer, Livius was astounded by how immensily attractive the minotaur truly was. His heavy body heaving and rotating its toned muscles in the sunlight as he majestically paced towards Lord Shade and his reception. It dawned on Livius why he was called Lord Steam. An involuntary effect of his magic, it was as if he constantly had steam evaporating from his thick skin, as though he was constantly sweating and had musk rising from his pores. It was hard to remain unaffected by the sight of this imposing yet striking bull, who had almost arrived within greeting range.
"Welcome to my humble home, Lord Steam. I trust that you had a safe journey, and that you will be able to recuperate here, as it is quite a marvelous day!", Lord Shade jovially half-shouted. As could almost be expected from the body language of the arriving mage, the reply was quite far from heartfelt. It was in fact bordering on cold, but Lord Shade appeared to not give it any notice.
"It is a day, plain as any other. But I give you thanks for your courteous welcome, Lord Shade..."
When Lord Steam finally arrived, he halted before Lord Shade. Livius was quite confounded to notice that he had instinctively stepped a few paces back. He had subconsciously come to the realization that minotaurs did not typically behave like his master, and this one looked intimidating to say the least. Livius could tell, by a subtle glance exchanged with the pitch black bull, that he reacted ever so slightly to the evasive maneuvre performed by the human, but he didn't appear to make a big deal out of it. He merely snorted and looked back at Philon, his frown getting heavier every second.
Livius felt an awkward sensation of unwelcome arousal creeping in on him. He wasn't even sure why that was. Perhaps it was somehow connected to the grand stature of this magnificent lord. His posture and body language was significantly more regal than anything Philon could ever muster. It was impossible, even, to picture Philon as anything but loose in his demeanor, and in contrast, this minotaur oozed of charismatic power. He had his head held high as his stern, piercing eyes were beautifully framed by the huge horns, forking at the skies. But most notably; the surreptitious layers of steam, trickling along the bulging veins of rock hard minotaur muscles, tantalizing all the vibrant senses of the beholder with its lucent presence. Livius was aware of a thought that refused to go away; he was envious of the steam, wishing to trade place with it briefly, in order to be in a constant position to be licking along that body. It suddenly struck Livius that the steam emanating from his form; all of his form, was also bound to rise from his probably already musky genitals. The idea buried itself deep into his psyche, and the yearning to see what lay beneath the cloth made Livius fully erect. This forced him to awkwardly re-adjust his position into a far less balanced one. Hopefully, noone noticed his unbecoming cringing. At least the robe is spacious, thought Livius to himself.
"I must say, this is a rather homely, yet whimsically planned estate. It is as if the locations of plants and buildings alike were designed on impulse rather than careful planning. Befitting someone of your reputation, I would reckon."
"And what reputation is that, if I may ask?", Philon inquired with a sly grin on his face. He was seemingly unaffected, even amused, at the ominous and highly frictional presence of the black minotaur. Lord Steam appeared to trade his former irritation with a fresh display of superiority, merely smiling sarcastically at the question, squinting his eyes a little.
"I am fairly certain I do not need to remind you of your lackluster attendance at the clan council meetings, nor the nefarious reputation you have subsequently spawned. It is, however, your own devices that fault you in this case, not the ill-will of other clan members. Matters of great importance are repeatedly shunned by your near impeccable level of blissful ignorance, but the world is constantly changing around us, Lord Shade. Humans encroach our lands like vine ranks no doubt cling to various walls on your facilities. How you manage to stay uninterested in this has become an issue that can no longer be ignored."
"And is that why you've come, Lord Steam? To instill a sensation of reassuring calmness regarding my intentions in the hearts of our dear council members?"
"Not only amongst those who recide there, but to myself aswell. I am not about to conceal the fact that I hold great suspicions against you, my Lord Shade. It was due to no small amount of my own insistence that the council was brought to the unanimous conclusion of sending me here to ..... investigate. Aswell as speak with you, of course."
The tone in Lord Steam's voice had become darker, as had his belligerent eyes. Livius swallowed saliva repeatedly, as it felt as if a big lump was stuck in his throat. He looked at Philon, who managed to somehow retain his calm. It was almost surreal to behold, but the effect on Lord Steam was clear; it made him more irritated. Perhaps a strategical choice, Livius thought to himself. After all, Philon knew this mage well enough to know how to handle him, most likely. Still a desire to interject overwhelmed Livius, but he managed to suppress it. Jesting or acting as an intermediate to his peers would only awaken more suspicion and potentially more anger from Lord Steam.
"Then we shall speak", said Philon rather indifferently and took a slight bow, his arms administrating polite directions towards the dining table. "But not on empty stomachs! I am sure you and your guards alike are bound to be hungry after such a long journey, so I beg that we all partake in the delights prepared for us by my wonderful... slaves. How about it?"
There was an awkward silence as Lord Steam inspected Lord Shade. After a few moments of his no doubt deliberately searching stare, he looked back at his guards and gave a slight nod. Then, in an instant, they all started walking towards the dining table with powerful steps. Lord Shade quickly joined in and started jogging slightly to get ahead of the entourage as they began their hasty walk towards their destination. Livius found it very hard to keep up the pace, but he did his best to do so without looking overly agitated at the uncivilized behaviour of the newly arrived guests.
"You've placed the dining table outside, in the hopes that the wind, mosquitos and various other bugs will pester us, I assume?", asked Lord Steam casually, as they closed in. Livius could see Cook standing at attention by the dining table, masking his emotions exceptionally well, with that serious, flat face of his. Livius envied that ability at a time like this.
"Your investigatory ambitions are widely known, Lord Steam, but your skills appear to fail you on this day. Unless of course, you meant to hurt my feelings by being rude? But no.. a Lord of your standing succumbing to such petty behaviour? Perish the thought. Naturally, I chose to place us outside since it is far more tranquil, and far more beautiful. I am sure that the potential presence of other living beings will not ruin the atmosphere that your esteemed presence greatly contributes to. In fact, I believe it shall be marvellous."
Livius tensed his fists around the cloth of his robe as he was pacing beside the minotaurs, throwing quick looks over his shoulder to make sure nothing horrible transpired due to the highly venomous words being traded. Lord Steam appeared to take the insinuations rather well, he didn't appear overly bemused. It dawned on Livius that perhaps this really was the way that the two minotaurs handled each other normally. Vile implications, disguised insults and sour remarks. It made him feel very uncomfortable, but after a few seconds of careful deliberation, he realized that this was pretty much how he used to interact with Skender back in the days. Perhaps the differences between man and minotaur was not such a huge leap after all.
"I didn't realize that you were a comedian, Lord Shade. I look forward to hearing your witty explanations in response to the various questions I have for you. I am sure it will be a class act."
Upon arriving at the extensive dining table, Lord Steam and his guards quickly arranged themselves in a pattern, with six guards to the Lord's left side, and six on his right. Lord Shade chose to position himself on the other side, directly ahead of Lord Steam. With a subtle nod, Lord Shade then gestured for his guests to sit down, which all of them did once their host had settled upon his chair. On Philon's side, there were only a handful of "slaves" that chose to sit down. Standing a few paces away from the table, Livius felt he was malplaced, and didn't know what to do. Philon was busy smiling at his newly arrived guests, and since Livius had no direct instructions to follow, as per usual, he felt a tiny bit uncomfortable, causing him to fidget nervously. Suddenly, he spotted Cook, briefly appearing at the entrance to the building that kept the large kitchen. Along with him, a translucent carpet of steam rolled out like a lizard's uncurling tongue. He waved at Livius to come over to him, in a manner that appeared more stiff than usual, before he hastily disappeared back into the house.
Livius turned to look at his master, who returned a warm smile at him before once more lending all his attention to the inquisitive Lord Steam, who had already begun to launch an array of complicated questions regarding Lord Shade's willingness to accept proposed changes to his daily, non-existant routines, in the form of some suggested implementations of travelling schedules. While Livius no doubt appeared to pay a bit more attention to it than Philon did, he made the decision to join Cook in whatever task he could help out with. All that he could pick up as he walked away from the adjourning Lords was that there would likely be many more meetings at other places in the future, and it was probably not possible for Philon to escape those duties. Will he take me along?, wondered Livius as he entered the warm entropy of the kitchen.
"Move faster!", hissed Cook from inside. He was awkwardly crammed between various pots and pans and hard-working people, brushing him past in preparation of more food items to be carried outside. While Cook had originally presented himself in exquisitely luxurious clothing, he was now pouring with sweat, and he was sticky all over. Still he managed to look every bit as formal and proper as before, which made Livius smile for a second, before he noticed that Cook was pale, and definitely not emotionless in his facial expression. Something appeared to genuinely frighten him. As Livius approached, Cook took his hand and lead him outside into an adjacent hallway, where they could speak uninterrupted and privately.
"What's the matter?", inquired Livius with a concerned look. It took the startled servant a good few seconds before he had collected himself enough to begin speaking coherently, which was definitely a very unusual sight to behold on this experienced veteran of housekeeping and mannerism, normally unbothered by almost any mishap or unfortunate eventuality.
"I am sorry to be a nuisance, my good sir, but I suddenly remembered.. your robe, sir... your robe...did you remember to put it away this morning?"
Livius gave his robe a quick inspection and didn't know how to respond. Clearly his robe was currently worn by him, and on top of that; it was flawlessly untouched by any dirt or stain. Maybe Cook meant that it was the wrong sort of robe. In trying to remember various codes of conduct, Livius could not remind himself of any specific context where a robe such as the one he wore would be considered inappropriate, unless perhaps it was some subcultural practice that was only understood locally. But even before he could ask, Cook continued.
"Not that one! The one in your room! The one you wore when you first arrived!"
One heartbeat passed before Livius had any clue which specific robe that was being referred to, but then in an instant, he figured it out: Cook was talking about the old Imperial mage robe. It still hung innocently on a hanger, on the outside of the large closet, and could easily be spotted from where Lord Steam was sitting right now. In fact, his seat would be in a direct line of sight to the window of the room in question. If he happened to notice the robe and recognize the pattern...
Livius face became of flush of deathly pale, and the heartbeats that followed felt like ice breaking out from a sensitive sack of skin within a hollow body. Immediately, Livius ran with full haste towards his room, hoping that it had all gone unnoticed. The blazing journey past corridors and rooms, and possibly even other humans, all went him unnoticed by, as Livius was high on adrenaline. It felt like time itself had slowed down to a crawl, even though he could clearly tell that he had never before been running as fast as he did. The images of blood and entrails had begun to trail back into his subconscious, trying to convey their grim tale once more. But then, over a period of mere seconds, the images were altered and suppressed, fading into black. A soothing sensation dawned in the form of a sound, attenuating slowly into a barely audible whisper.
"It wasn't your fault, my dear heart mage..."
Livius did not understand what the voice meant, but still it made his eyes tear up. Was that something he had heard Philon say before, and if so; in what context? Around a bend, he could see the opening of his room from afar. His race stopped abruptly though, when he saw someone step out of it.
This 'someone' was clad in his mage robe, and he walked - no, stumbled - as if he had been severely wounded. The cloth was covered in dry blood. Even though the corridor was brightly lit from the outside, the blood looked like dark oil, but Livius somehow knew it was blood, and not oil. Furthermore, thick specks of dust and ashes were baked into the very fabric of the robe, as though it had meltet into it like a scar that wont heal. Along with the physical presence of the person walking out of the room, a numbing sensation came adrift, like invisible smoke. It voicelessly bellowed its ruinous ability to seemingly choke all life in its corrupted, intangible form. Livius instinctually believed that what he felt stirring in the air was the essence of Death itself. The person he saw was its seemingly unwilling harbinger. As the person turned towards him, Livius could see that it was his own face staring back at him, albeit more scarred and emotionally broken. Surely it had to have been a mirage, or a creative subterfuge, birthed by some illusive plan. The figure bore an angry face, and with streaks of dried tears he glared, pointing an accusing finger at Livius. "Don't you look at me like that... you know damn well what happened here. You went down this road before, and you can never undo it. There is no second chance!", said the ashen doppelganger, his finger now trembling with ferocity. Livius was frozen, couldn't move. Then, unbidden, a terrible memory flooded him:
Blazing fires across a landscape of crumbled houses and dead bodies.
He had lived here once, in House Shade. But he couldn't possibly be living here now. Whatever state he was in before, in that room with a brown minotaur... that must have been reality. This, then, had to have been the dream - the illusion.
Livius fell to his knees. Around him, walls appeared to gradually deteriorate, as if his surroundings were fast-forwarding through time, showing the damages done with unnatural speed. He saw how the ages would alter the look of the lost House Shade. He saw how time forgot a place once so alive. Without a chance to stop its course, his once life brutally disappeared around him; first washed by the unforgiving flames, then left smoldering in ashes. After that grew chaotic whirls of plants and trees in their attempts to rise over the unmarked graves, as if hundred of years passed by, leaving him and his look-alike ghost stuck in place as it all unfolded before him. The ghost screamed at the top of his lungs. Livius closed his eyes and prayed to all of the gods he had ever heard of, in the pointless hope they would hear him and bring him mercy.
After a while, he hesitantly opened his eyes.
Before him was the corridor, and he was just outside his room, on his knees. The air was still, the corridor bright. His unholy twin was nowhere to be seen. Bless the gods, I have been given a second chance, thought Livius and rose from his knees. In his mind, he still kept on praying silently that he had indeed arrived to an alternate universe in order to set things right, and he even afforded a small hope that he had arrived a day earlier than the dire events which would take place, or at the very least before Lord Steam had arrived in the morning. That would surely give him enough time to stop the impending disaster.
He ran into his room, and leapt towards the hanger, fumbling violently with the heavy attire as he grabbed it and stuffed it into his closet. When he turned around, looking outside the window, he caught the prying expression of Lord Steam, instantly locking his gaze upon Livius' terrified eyes - he had been spotted. With a shallow gasp, Livius knew that he had been unable to conceal the robe in time, and there was no question whether or not Lord Steam had understood what it was. Those eyes were like searing hot charcoal as they observed his every move.
Livius started walking towards the window, and Lord Steam rose up with such force that it caused the chair he was sitting on fly a few feet away. From his lips resounded something akin to a snarling sound, and he raised both his hands into the air, clearly hell-bent on producing some form of spell. As Lord Shade swiftly stood up, along with Lord Steam's guardsmen, there was a tense yet silent standoff between the opposing mages. Livius started climbing out the window, only capable of wishing to steer the situation into a difference course from what has happened in another past, another life. He felt restrained by how stiff his joints and muscles were, as he came down on the outside of the window, and yet he was confounded that such petty details were even noticed by him at a crucial time like this. Perhaps he was too nervous to be able to think straight or focus on his priorities. That thought made him determined to regain his control over his emotions, even though it seemed an impossible task.
"Be still, imperial scum!", Lord Steam roared aggressively, with strands of saliva whipping out from his muzzle. Livius rigidly obliged, cramping up in such a way that he looked like a statue in winter. He tried to speak, but found he couldn't do anything at all. He wanted to believe it was due to a malevolent spell, but deep down he knew that it was just his nerves acting up on him. Lord Shade was seemingly fully prepared to counteract, should Lord Steam initiate an attack, yet he still looked very relaxed.
"My Lord, highly esteemed colleague and dear friend, please stay your wrath. You are amongst kin, dutifully serving the same cause that you hold dear. I beg for you to respect the peace that I so highly treasure on my grounds and in my home", Philon said. To most observers, his voice and body language would connotate calm insurance of full control, but Livius knew him too well; he could hear a slight hint of fear. Things were indeed starting to get out of hand.
"You had better explain yourself, Philon. I just saw the robe of an imperial mage hanging inside your house!"
Philon bit his lips and his eyes grew a tad bit fiery, something Livius had never seen before. "You will adress me as Lord Shade when you are a guest at my home in an arrend such as this. Since this meeting is official in its nature, I am primarily to be considered a Lord, and humble host secondary."
"I am afraid I cannot. You are, as of now, relieved of your rank and status, pending the results of my investigation. It is with the authority granted by the council that I call upon your title to be temporarily revoked. Any resistance or use of magic from your part will be deemed an act of treason, which is punishable by death", announced Lord Steam. He was now like a beacon of fire, restless and blind to all reason. There wasn't even a hint of friendliness, or mercy, to be found.
"Please, my Lord Steam. I beg you to see reason. Whatever you think you saw is out of context, and will be explained, but please do not frighten me or anyone who lives here. We are peace-loving and seek no form of violence to be wreaked here. To that end; how can I assist you, my beloved Lord Steam?"
"Do not dare use that vile tongue of yours to spout false proclamations of love! It tastes like adder to me! Stand back, and let the slave approach first and foremost! I must inspect him."
Livius shivered noticably, as he started his slow walk towards the agitated minotaur, who cropped up as an ominous sight, with an imperturbability that almost appeared to be rooted into the ground, his fixed stare piercing into the soul like refulgent arrows of despair. Looking at Philon briefly awarded him a slight sense of reassurance and hope, as his Lord and lover - his everything - nodded solemnly, as if to convey that it will all be resolved amiably. Swiftly and brutally, a colossal minotaur hand grabbed around Livius' arm and pulled him in close. It was one of the guards who had apparently rushed forth from nowhere, and in a flash, Livius found himself standing before the mage Lord. Dwarfed by his immense size, Livius felt genuine fear striking at his heart. This towering, ebon black minotaur reeked of rage, it was unmistakable. While a desire to give in entirely to the will of this hulking antagonist nearly overwhelmed him, he managed to compose himself relatively well, quaking only slightly as Lord Steam grasped his hand rather violently. After a few seconds, Livius felt a stream of magic entering him, searching. There was no way for him to escape detection; the mage already knew.
"This human is gifted with magic. And no doubt the robe belongs to him too. You have a human mage from the Empire living in your home, Philon, and you would have me believe, perhaps, that you knew nothing of it?"
"On the contrary, Lord Steam. I know all there is to know about him, and I wish that you will too. Rest assured that he is no longer serving his former allies. He has resigned from any previous factions to spend the rest of his days here with us."
Snorting precipitously at the remark, the bovine mage lowered his horns as he spoke. "Only a naive fool such as yourself can believe in such empty promises from a feral human".
"Please.. let me -...", Livius started to whisper with a hoarse voice, eyes tearing up as he looked deep into the cold, barren eyes of Lord Steam. Suffering an unexpected, mighty punch to his chest, Livius lost all air in his lungs. A muffled cracking sound broke free from his bones and trickled in his ears, while a speckled white-out phenomenon blinded his sight temporarily. Sinking down to the ground in agony, he coughed and gasped for air in panic, hoping that he wasn't mortally wounded.
"Speak when spoken to, slave!", yelled Lord Steam, eyes flaring with hatred. Livius mustered all strength he could to resume looking into the Lord's eyes as his palpitating hand impinged upon the minotaur's thigh, making it flinch a little before settling. Livius feared he would be struck again, in retaliation for this intimate contact, but somehow Livius was convinced that a miniscule hint of sympathy had found its shaky way into Lord Steam's eyes. Since he wasn't immediately beaten, Livius believed that he had assumed correctly, but he was not prepared to risk things further. He had to appeal to the giant Lord's heart, without crossing the line; something that would very likely prove difficult, if not impossible. With a very subtle squeezing motion, Livius massaged the minotaur's thigh gently while looking pleadingly into his eyes.
"Please..", repeated Livius, this time without being struck. Lord Steam snorted once more, this time a lot louder and with a taint of irritation.
"Speak then, snake. But I shant digest your words with the same level of credibility as those of even a lowly traitor. In my eyes, you are worse. Do not expect to be deciphered as anything but a liar."
"Great Lord.. I beg of you.. I want no bloodshed, and I vouch for Philon's words as the truth, even though you find me detestable and unworthy of being called a person that can be trusted. But I did come here from the Empire. I confess that much gladly and without the need to lie about it. I came here to spy on your soldier's movements, in fact.."
Lord Steam clenched his teeth together in apparent anger, but Livius didn't stop. He had to try and talk sense to him, and in order to do so, he needed to tell his story. "Sir, my scout patrol was eradicated and I fled into the wastes, where I nearly died. Philon.. Lord Shade collected me and brought me here and kept me alive, and taught me his ways. I am forever in debt to him, and want nothing more to do with the Empire, or any other war machine for that matter. The only thing I want is to live here until I die of old age..."
Livius looked up at the behemothic observer. His heart sank when he noticed the indifference seeping from every inch of the profoundly mighty being. He stood there, breathing heavily, as if he couldn't wait to crush anyone and everyone who he saw as a potential adversary. But there had to be a penchant for a peaceful resolution. After all, Lord Steam had known Philon for a long time, and it was unlikely that he wanted to split the clan by enforcing too much upon one of its more renowned mages. Still, he appeared adamant in his demeanor. Livius realized that he would have to offer himself to still his bloodlust. "...But if you can't grant me that privilege, Sir, at least take my life; and only mine. Spare the others. I beg for your mercy with all my heart. Please, Great Lord Steam, please.. I will do anything you want, just let my dear friends live! They have done nothing more than shown their great hearts by saving even the life of someone that would normally be considered an enemy. They are wonderful, empathic souls, and the world needs more like them!"
Livius' hand slid down Lord Steam's thigh, and he collapsed onto the ground from exhaustion. His tear-laden face twisted in a sorrowful grin, he desperately fell into an almost lethargic state, unable to keep talking. He had spoken his mind, and surmised that the minotaur mage should be able to find some degree of clemency in his heart.
"Their actions are not merely inadmissable and unbefitting the superintendence of a clan mage; it is in direct violation of our martial laws! Furthermore, apart from aiding and harboring an unusually powerful enemy asset, I have reason to believe that they have effectively been manipulated by you into becoming proselytes of the imperial army! The corrupting schemes of human mages know no boundaries, and I cannot allow the risk of sustaining any harmful elements within my clan! This place must be cleansed!"
"Please, listen to yourself!", Philon shouted. "We are not a threat to anyone, and we are certainly not mind-altered! Such a spell could easily be spotted by someone as accomplished as you! I know that you have always glared at me for approaching the treatment of humans in a way that stands out to most, but our philosophical differences must not cloud your judgment! Not when lives are at stake! Please, my Lord Steam, I just want this madness to end!"
"Then you do not object to the immediate execution of this human slave?", hissed Lord Steam, grabbing the hair on Livius' scalp in an incontrovertible manner, raising his other hand as if to strike. Over the course of a mere second, the hand now soaring above the minotaur's head caught magical fire, and burned like a visceral torch in the still autumn air. Trailing by like calm ducks in a pond, the luminance of the clouds in the distant background made for a surreal backdrop to an impending demise, and Livius wondered if it would indeed be his last sight.
"I object!", screamed Philon in a voice that appeared to tangent that of a panicky state. "There will be no blood on my soil, not as long as I live, anyway! Let him go so we can talk instead!"
"But Philon, he has already given his consent to this. What trickery of the mind could ever possess you to disallow me from following the laws set by our betters?"
Livius looked at his would-be dispatcher and noticed a sarcastic grin on his face. Did he truly believe that House Shade was under the control of a lone human mage, or was it an excuse to finally rid the clan of a mage he hated?
"I beg you to see reason! Let's talk about this like civilized authority figures, and not as spiteful avengers - seeking to redeem themselves by flinging accusations and causing the death of innocents! Let him go!"
"Philon, no, if I can -", Livius tried. It was pointless, as he could not possibly drown out the voice of the agitated minotaur who furiously held him and roared a reply.
"Never! I have long suspected that something foul was afoot with you and this place! You, yourself, lack the reasoning of a proper bull, and you have never shown interest in clan issues! I believe the manipulation took its sweet time to thoroughly bite into, and gradually transform your mind. That explains why it was impossible for me to discover what was going on, until I set foot here, in your very back yard! I can see clearly how this demonic ruse has infected our clan, and my intent is now carved in stone! You must die, and the rest with you! I shall mourn this day as the most horrible day I have lived through, but I swear that I will honor the memory of the real Lord Shade, whom I never got to meet before he was swallowed by corruption!"
As if a lance made of coldest ice impaled itself through Livius skull, and down the spine; petrification struck. His mind cavorted through a thick blanket of fear, dreamingly presenting him with various scenarios of the past, future and present behind its ghoulish, veiled surface. Hell was only a few paces away, but in his heart, it had already taken over. Lord Steam roared and prepared a spell, and even without looking, Livius knew that the guards were already unsheathing their weapons, ready to attack. He felt as though he was a prisoner in the hour glass of the gods, as they twisted the sands of time to invoke a scenario that had long since transpired and ended. Was this a punishment? Would he remain stuck here, never able to change what was seemingly about to happen once again?
Deep within Livius - determination shot forth; he pushed his feet into the ground and sprung backwards with all his might, miraculously escaping the harsh grasp of the minotaur, even though he was severely fatigued. Philon bellowed something, but it was made incomprehensible in the ensuing pandemonium: for while Livius had made the jump, both Lord Steam and Philon had unleashed spells simultaneously, resulting in a deafening roar as the effects of their respective arcane streams clashed against one another like tidal waves of power. Livius landed fairly close to Philon, and stumbled clumsily until the distance was closed. At his master's side, he turned to look at the opposition, which appeared to be encased in something. As his eyes flickered around the premises, it took him little time to deduce that -they- were in fact the ones being encased, not Lord Steam. It appeared as if Philon had cast a shielding spell, covering a vast area around his own center. Outside of it, Lord Steam's body blazed of flames, and a torrent of impossibly hot fire spewed forth, testing the strength of Philon's barrier. It wouldn't hold up forever.
"Round up as many as you can, get them to safety!", Philon said without diverting his eyes from Lord Steam. There was a surprising amount of serenity in his voice, but sadly also a substantial degree of exhaustion. Livius beheld his master, and felt tremendously helpless. Sweat was streaming down that magnificent minotaur hide, and his arms were tense, and shaking furiously. It was an inescapable consequence of his endeavor to uphold the spell. Livius glanced at Cook, who had already begun to collect the others, and they appeared to be heading away from the violence. Livius decided to believe that they would in all likelihood be led to safety even without his contribution. And as a mage, he felt his duty was not to fuzz about with the others anyway; he had to assist Philon, no matter what he had been told.
Livius closed his eyes and concentrated on the energies around him. The tenacious currents of the arcane swirled vigorously yet stealthily, and he was surprised to spot nuances within nuances, where he had assumed there would be none. What had initially appeared to simply be a chaotic burst of wild magic, was indeed a great deal more subtle than he had anticipated. Delving into this would require all his focus and confidence.
Extending his senses until he felt as though he was swimming among the raging winds of magic, he partook further by allowing his own magic to slip in, in order to support Philon's spell. At first, it was a bit like pouring water onto an already watery surface, generously granting more content and weight. Then it all changed. After a while, Livius could feel a separation between his own magic and the magic formed by Philon. Suddenly it wasn't like water added into water, but more like oil floating above the surface of the water, except it was slightly mixing into the other stream, adding friction and clumsiness to the balance of the flow. He hadn't managed to help. Instead, he realized that he had done something horribly wrong. Confused, he tried his best to withdraw his own spell from Philon's. He couldn't believe that he wasn't able to add more strength to the spell. Obviously the magic had been too advanced for him; he hadn't grasped its composition. What had started as a willingness to aid, had turned into an unintentional catastrophe. He slowly ceased his magical flow, and turbulance began tugging at his skin as he did so. Hopefully, it would work out well. Livius thought he heard an upset roar from his master, but it faded fast, as everything turned white in an unspeakably loud explosion.
Everything in his body was thumping rhytmically, sending sharp cracks of pain all over his very being. He was numb, yet aching all the same. As Livius opened his eyes, slowly, he was convinced that his nerve endings and muscles inside him were being dragged and pulled out to their breaking point, ready to snap should he move too quickly. Everything looked overexposed as he scanned the surrounding area. He couldn't make out any details, just an excruciatingly blinding coruscation, travelling across his retina like a nagging ghost, stealing color information and replacing it with a censored sheet of burning white. It all caused him to suffer pounding migraine, aswell as a profound sense of desolation. Grains of sand rolled peacefully against Livius' face. At least he thought it was sand. When his field of view had decided to settle a bit, he started to realize where he was and what had happened, but he could still not see clearly enough to establish anything noteworthy.
He started to move a bit, but it felt heavy. It wasn't just the pain and fatigue, he was in fact weighed down by something. Breathing a bit too heavy for his own liking, he decided to wait a few moments before he would try and remove whatever lay on top of him. It seemed, though, that resting was more or less made impossible due to his awkward position and the rocky surface upon which he seemed to lay. It soon dawned on him that he would probably never become well rested in a predicament like this, and that he might aswell make an attempt to get away.
Moving his arms, he felt them connect with several hard objects of irregular shape. He moaned loudly as he pushed, he cleared his torso from all dead weight. As the items fell, the sound reminded him of rolling rocks. Looking down on the ground, he saw that it was indeed rubble and various building materials that had landed there, and as he turned to look at it, an abundance of gravel fell down from his robe. He was covered in all sorts of stuff. With a painful grimace, he rose from his uncomfortable, would-be sepulcher. Standing on two feet was a chore, and it wasn't made easier by the uneven winds, lashing grit against his sensitive skin, which he noticed was exposed in several places where it shouldn't be. The robe was a torn mess of blood, grain and what appeared to be ashes. Upon scouting the area, Livius felt he was in complete disarray. Philon was nowhere to be found, nor anyone else. It was a dead, apocalyptic place now, showering the vistas with ashes and despair, but little else. Debris covered the nearby vicinity, and partially crumbled buildings seemed to disguise themselves as broken tombstones, sinking into unhallowed soil.
Another disturbing sight was the gloomy skyline, now substantially darker in tone; it was evidence strong enough to indicate that several hours must have passed since...
The deathly white light.
He remembered the explosion, and although undoubtedly it might have had the capacity to fling him several paces back, it appeared as if he was standing close to where the kitchen once was located. Could he have flown that far?
Farther away, thick smoke was rising over a ledge. There was no way of telling whence it came, as some fires were still going strong, and others had begun to die away, with dark vapors rising like flags from scorched spots of black. In fact, that's what the world was reduced to now: black and white. The fires had produced noxious fumes that drowned out all color, obtusely drawing reality in abrupt contrasts rather than chromatic nuances.
A stone's throw away from where he stood, Livius saw what must have been people. He clumsily limped his way towards them, hampered by his nearly broken body. As he came closer, he was able to make out the shape and movement patterns of the people; one was lying down and another stood above him, trying to help. Vague snippets of human frequencies could be heard as faint attenuations across the collapsed landscape, but it was too hard for Livius to hear what they said. He walked on, hoping to find more survivors in the shadowlands of what was yesterday a safe haven. It was all so surreal, yet bitingly real.
All of a sudden he heard heavy clomping sounds, and instinctively he dove towards the ground. With a crude slam, he landed, but kept his head held high to see what was going on. Some of the smoke dispersed as a giant, horned figure stormed into view. Livius was now able to discern more details; it was in fact Cook who was lying down, and standing above him was one of the younger servants. He was doing everything in his power to try and lift Cook, but to no avail. As the silhouette of the advancing minotaur appeared through the clearing amongst the scattered wilds of condensation, the servant stopped trying to lift his friend, and instead fell down onto his knees, hands held high. It looked like he was pleading for his life.The minotaur, seemingly armed with a large sword, severed the head of the defenseless human with one fell sweep. Livius was barely able to comprehend what he had seen, until it had transpired. Without as much as a hint of hesitation, the minotaur moved up towards Cook. As he stood above him, he grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands, the blade poised at the bare throat of the fallen gentleman. With a stalwart thrust, the sword was rammed into the neck of Cook. One brutal twist later, the sword slid out, joined by a stark gush of blood. The minotaur walked on, but the desperate sounds of Cook's bubbly gargling noise remained in the air, mirroring the constancy of death spreading like a plague all over the remains of House Shade.
Even though Livius wanted to linger on the traumatic events that had unfolded before his eyes, he knew he couldn't. The minotaur guard was pacing in his direction, and Livius had to come up with something. He knew they were specifically looking for him, and there would be no problems for any of Lord Steam's lackeys to recognize his robe. An illusion might work, he thought to himself.
Livius remembered a trick he would sometimes play on his beloved Philon. He would lie down on a spot where he knew that his master would soon appear, and use illusion spells to make it seem as though he was mortally wounded. The first few times, he had nearly managed to give poor Philon a heart attack. But the old bull was a quick learner, and it didn't take long before Livius was subjected to his own prank, which gave Livius nightmares for weeks to come. With the recollection came a flood of emotions, and many more memories - playful memories, happy memories.. they seemed almost tangible, yet; what did they mean here? What currency could they be converted to in this infernal place?
Livius couldn't dream himself away, he had to stay focused. Now, instead, was the time to make the old trick of the past useful in a new way. He had to make it convincing and pretty extreme, so the guard would not need to investigate further by stabbing into his body, in order to make sure he was truly dead. He had to move fast. The minotaur was closing in on him.
With a focused mind, he reached into the ambient luminosity surrounding him, rearranging its composition and reflections. It was a bit like abstract painting, except he did it with his mind. He knew two ways to approach the complexity of illusion spells: either he could attempt to enter the mind of the subject in question, and alter the way they percieve reality, or he could change the way that light represents color in a local area. Normally he would try breaching the mind of the target, as it was generally far more reliable, but it was also a great deal riskier in a scenario such as this. After all, he knew that he wasn't fully prepared, and he wasn't in full control of his emotions or thoughts. Failing an attempt at this stage would mean that the minotaur would know that someone was trying to get into his mind in order to tamper with it. Altering light and color information was normally not the most convincing technique though, as it was generally rather hard to make things appear lifelike and authentic to the senses, but Livius figured that the concealing nature of this heavy smoke would work in his favor, at least in that respect.
Livius tried to make it look like he was a pale corpse with a severed head, and a fully exposed ribcage protruding from his slit-apart torso, its naked entrails sullied by the dirt on the ground.
The minotaur walked up fairly close to Livius, his heavy hooves halting near the face. Livius could hear him respire heavily. No, he was snorting, even - sniffing the air aloud. No doubt expecting a heavy scent of blood from the carcass. Livius wasn't sure he could emulate that well enough for it to appear realistic, but the minotaur appeared to turn around anyway. He must have noticed the robe and figured that the smell of blood was drowned out by the smoke and flames, for now he was walking back whence he came. Wherever that was.
A good few minutes passed before Livius found the courage to cancel the effects of the spell. He got up quickly and set off towards his fallen comrades. He decided to not even inspect the servant, whom he knew had to be dead. Still a glance fell upon the headless body, a trail of blood leading to the skull. The face contorted into a fearful expression, yet with eyes that had no emotions whatsoever. Flaccid lips, allowing a wet tongue to slide out from its confines in a manner befalling only the dead and gone. Livius writhed with angst as he turned from the unbecoming sight, and instead ran towards Cook. Perhaps there was a chance he could have survived long enough to be saved. Livius saw the white face of his former friend as he descended onto all fours, looking to see what could be done. Nothing.. too late, he thought as he observed the still stern-looking eyes. They had dried up already, and so had the blood, but it was obvious that he had met death adamantly, and without fear - as could be expected from such a respectable man. Livius nodded at his former friend, as a final farewell.
At this point, Livius began to shake with frustration. All these people, and he couldn't save a single soul? And where was Philon? Surely, he would not have allowed any of this if he was still ..
..alive? He has to be... he can't be dead...
Livius ran anew, as fast as his crippled body could carry him, and although it wasn't fast, it was fast enough - for he didn't really wish to see what lay beyond the next layer of smoke. He knew he was getting close to where he stood earlier, with the master he had sorely failed. Secretly praying for an arrow to pierce his throat or heart, he walked into the dissolving webs of dim anonymity, like he was diving through clouds, expecting to crash into the deadly surface of a mountain wall on the other side.
There was no crash, nor any arrows. As the drifting clump of smoke flew by, he saw Lord Steam in the distance. Kneeling. It wasn't the stance of a triumphant hero, nor was it the pleased demeanor of a villain who had pulled off a great heist. In contrast to all that, Lord Steam seemed a broken shadow of the mage who had ordered the destruction of House Shade. Heaving his body in sluggish fashion, he slowly got up from whatever he had been sitting by, and walked away along with his guards. Livius stared for the longest time, contemplating an attack, knowing it would end his own miserable life. He felt like a coward for not doing it, angered at himself for not going berserk. He began clenching his fists, grinding his teeth. How could he just let them all walk away from this? As in a daze, he witnessed them all getting into their caravans and setting a course into the horizon, leaving a graveyard behind. Here, there shone no sun, there were no voices reproducing in the air. Life had departed - ruins and shambles stood in its wake.
Livius looked back at where his mortal enemy had been kneeling. Everything around him was still in black and white, due to the cascades of ashes still thickening his field of view. It was hard to make out anything at all. Then suddenly, he saw two cone-like outlines in the dark. The wind made the smoke disperse somewhat, but its irregular motion made the two strange objects appear as if they were fluttering in a disfigured, rippling dance. As the breeze swept the landscape, clearing a temporary space bereft of smoke, it introduced a vivid color scheme to the preceding tints of only shadows and highlights. Livius saw the twin objects for what they were; horns. A minotaur was lying there, amongst the rubble.
Philon!
Energy suffused Livius' very being, and he started to sprint despite his agony. At that point in time and space, nothing but one purpose existed; reaching the goal laid out before him. The jittery tunnel vision he experienced was shaky from the intense running, and it revealed nothing but a blurry, grayish contour of a minotaur - but it had to be Philon, who else could it possibly be? In his mind, he was naively trying to conjure up images of his lover rising from his supine position, brushing himself off casually - but it didn't happen. Still, Livius was sure that he saw his dearly loved Philon move. Maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe he could be saved, and this nightmare could end before he would once more wake up in a world where death had taken everything from him. Maybe this time, he would break the downward spiral and win over destiny.
He flew down on all fours at the instant he arrived, crouching protectively over his master. It was indeed Philon who lay there, his body ragged and in tatters. He was still breathing though, and he was conscious. Livius felt a slight surge of hope flowing through his veins, his heart beating furiously fast. A quick surmising of the injuries done revealed a lot of trauma though, and it was so much to bear, so painful to see. Almost immediately, anguish filled Livius' heart. Randomly placed all over his lovers stomach and chest were deep lacerations. It appeared as if they had managed to slice and impale him with sharp objects. The wounds were deep. The once so wonderfully soft hide along the side of his belly, and down along his thigh, now consisted entirely of singed flesh curled up as withered paper, burnt to black and fierce, crisp ember. The stench was nauseating. Livius could not believe how anything belonging to the body of the most magnificent creature and person he had ever met, suddenly made him cringe and feel ill. But with some degree of joy, he discovered that parts of the chest, aswell as the arms and face were unscathed. He decided to not look elsewhere right now, for it was evident that the wounds were too severe. Even though he was a more accomplished mage than ever before, due to his tutelage under his master, he could not heal these wounds. The snake of Fate had bitten its own tail once more, and the poison had begun to seep in. There is nothing to be done...
He did everything that stood in his power to mask his emotions as he faced Philon's glance, but the very second that he saw himself reflected in his lover's eyes, he started to cry. The tears came unhibited, and there was no way of stopping them. Philon's eyes were so tranquil, no signs of pain - he only looked tired beyond belief, yet happy to see the face of someone he recognized and loved. Livius knew that he must have been mustering all his strength to remain alive long enough for his poor, foolish human to find him before death would.
"Ph- .. Philon, my love... I am so sorry, I .. I.. oh god, Philon. Don't die. Do you want me to.. what do you want me to do? Should I try and heal you? Can - .. ", Livius stuttered in between his sobs. Philon merely smiled, looking as gentle as the first day he had seen him, all those months ago.
"Don't cry for me, Livius. Not when that face I love so much has such a beautiful smile... please smile for me instead... and try to find someone that you can save... some young soul...", said Philon, his voice raspy and encumbered with pain.
"There are no survivors. They are all dead, and it's my fault. How could I possibly smile? I can't save them, Philon. I can't save anyone. I failed!", cried Livius, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face and neck.
"There is always someone that needs help, Livius. There is always someone you can save. Maybe not here, but somewhere, somewhen. And please... try and be happy for me. I finally discovered your secret. Your signature."
Livius shook his head and looked at Philon, puzzled.
"..you put a spell on sensitive hearts...", said Philon, and stroke a giant finger across Livius' wet cheek. "...like mine.."
With a final, pleased look, Philon's eyes grew distant as light faded from his sight. The lips sank slowly, preserving the rough riminiscence of his once so radiant smile.
"No.. no, don't go. Don't leave me here, alone... please.. please.. my love. Please..", Livius begged in vain. His tears obscured his vision, and his chest hurt from his sobbing, which had drawn large amounts of ashes down into his lungs. He started to wipe some of his tears away when he noticed something changing. It was an odd phenomenon; Philon changed his colors. In desperation, Livius watched as the minotaur mage lost the shading effects of his signature, along with his pulse. Almost as if a companion cloud, that had always been hovering over him, had decided to drift away and leave him for good, his grayish tone turned to ivory white. Now Livius finally saw his master's true color, but at a price that his heart could not possibly afford.
As the realization struck him - Philon is dead - he screamed in sheer panic and repeatedly pressed his hands against the body, trying to get the heart pumping once more. He would give anything to feel it start beating again, smell the breath from his big, bovine lungs. Now he was met with nothing, save the sounds of the wind. And soon, even those sounds abandoned him. He looked at his dead savior, hoping that soon, his chest would rise, and sounds of his voice would call for him. But silence crept like a merciless shadow, and it would eventually only be broken by trembling hands unraveling a paper.
And under unforgiving skies, in the dark recesses of history long since forgotten; a lone human spoke heartfelt words aloud. He was reciting a love poem, with words written for his lover who lay before him. Yet those were words that his lover could no longer hear.
Engulfed in blazing sand storms, the dark figure of a human stumbled forth. There was no direction in his steps, no decisiveness in his walk. It was a man alive only in the strictest sense. To the world, he was present, but in his own world, he had died and gotten lost in the afterlife. Yet he knew all the same that he was not dead. His wretched heart was still beating, and unfairly so. This was the curse that traitors such as he would have to carry.
He didn't know how far he had walked, nor for how long. It didn't matter now, and it didn't matter then.
Then.
Livius remembered his past. He wasn't truly in it now, somehow he knew that for a fact. It was never a second chance that he had been bestowed, just another visit down memory lane. A place full of terrors and scenarios that he had attached a lot of "why's" and "what if's" to - even though it had gotten him nowhere and given him nothing but pain. Somehow, he couldn't let it all go in spite of knowing that. The dream of changing his past had turned out to be a dream of seeing it all come true again, like a cursed downward spiral of death knocking brutally at his forehead, forcing its way inside to never let him leave its swirling dance. The allure of sinking into it and let it all go was overwhelming, as it always had been. Yet a feeling had begun to tickle him from the outskirts of this perceived reality, as if the desert was just a small brick, shrinking... it's edges closing in on him. Beyond this place was something else, a meaningless existence no doubt - he remembered nothing of his waking life, but he assumed that this dream would soon be over. There was a vague memory of him walking through the desert, and that he would eventually be found by troops sent out by the Empire. They would take him.. home... only it wasn't home. But where were the troops? Would they appear sometimes soon?
He refused to think of the events that would follow this trek. All he could think about was his present, here in this slowly disappearing state. But there was no purpose to the dream anymore, and he knew he would not get a second chance. House Shade was destroyed, Philon was dead, and he could not save anyone or anything. Livius started to curse loudly, damning himself for having been so stupid as to think he could undo what had happened, so long ago.
"But that's not why you are here...", trailed a booming voice.
Livius spun around, looking in all directions. He didn't have a clue where the sound was coming from, who it belong to. But.. it was so familiar, that voice. Everywhere he looked, there was only sand. But no storms. It had all subsided. Earthly dunes rested peacefully along the sprawling, featureless landscape, and the sky could be seen. Livius spun again - saw a figure - halted his motions.
Before him stood Philon. Around him and upon him was the gentle cloudiness that Livius had gotten so used to. He was once more shaded. There were no wounds on his body, and he wore a toga, clean and in perfect condition.
"My dear, beloved heartmage..."
Livius ran. His arms extended and his tears searing, he fell into the strong arms of his lover, his master - his everything. The embrace was every bit as lucid as it had been in ages past. He began kissing the chest and neck of his bovine lord, and climbed on his body in order to reach his muzzle and face, showering them with more kisses. Philon laughed, and the music of that laughter drowned the trembling sensation of his dream slowly fading. Right now, nothing else existed. For what seemed like an eternity, they held each other, and passionately indulged in the ecstacy that all of their senses could offer by this act alone; miracles that had once been mundane and part of the daily routine. The scent of Philon's bovine hide, touching and kneading his arms, diving headlong into his chest to kiss it.
After a while, Philon placed Livius at arm's length, observing him with a smile. Livius smiled back, all the while fearing it would all soon be replaced by something he did not know or understand. Philon saw the fear behind the smile, and his own expression changed into something far more serious.
"You know you are in a dream, but you don't know why. I wish I could tell you everything that you would want to hear, and I wish that you and I could live together again, in the home far away that we both miss so much. But I can't tell you that, and I can't make that happen, my beloved Livius. I can only tell you that you were not sent here to change your past, but to accept it."
"How can I accept something like that, Philon? How can I ever forgive myself for what I have done? What we had was something extraordinary. It was the best time of my life, and it's my fault that it ended!". Livius felt a biting cold inside his stomach, a part of him wanted Philon to hate him for what he had done. But Philon merely smiled.
"House Shade no longer burns, my beloved. It only burns like a flicker of an image, permanently engraved in your heart. But it doesn't belong in there, Livius. It is not a picture you should keep. It is a set of shackles to confine you, and leave you with sores. It is now time to remove those shackles."
Livius looked at his hands and feet, expecting to only see skin, but he saw the dense confines of iron shackles, sending electrical impulses of pain up throughout his spine from their tight grip. His fingers were shaking a bit from his emotional state. He had no words of wisdom to share, and no protests to interject with. He just did not know what to say or think.
"Everything ends, my love, and everything changes. An end is also a beginning, and while all that we had was a wonderful dream of a life that could be, that life is no longer part of the path you are on. Who knows, perhaps in an alternate universe, you and I are still lying in a hammock, enjoying the sun. Perhaps there, the meeting went well and we still live in peace."
Livius was reminded of the sensations intimately connected with all that Philon described. It was like nectar to his soul. He wanted those things to be true, here and now.
"..but in that life, you will face other hardships, and learn other lessons; lessons unlike the ones you are meant to learn in this life. But in order to learn, you must also live - something that you do, and I do not. Do not think that you can wear the vest of death for me, Livius, I wear it myself. And it greatly differs from yours. Your vest is one of burdon and stagnation, mine is the vest of change, for even death is change, just as life. Celebrate our life by living yours, in a world painted with the colors you picked from our time together."
Livius stared blankly at the apparition of his lover, thankful for this last encounter. Whether or not it was real, Livius could not decide. Perhaps it truly was Philon, reaching out to him from another life, another universe. Livius had no way of conveying all that he wanted to say before the moment would pass him by, but having the moment was more than enough. If only it could last longer. Tearfully, he beamed an insecure smile at his once lover.
"I love you Philon. Are you going to leave me again?"
The minotaur smiled warmly as a black whirlwind began to swallow the walls of this hypnagogic reality. A maelstrom of tingling vortexes bubbled on Livius' skin, reminding him to appreciate the seconds he had left before Philon would forever be passed to darkness in his life. Somehow, Livius knew that. He had enjoyed the privilege of Philon's last real visit, as a ghost, saying goodbye.
"I never left you to begin with, heartmage, and I never will. You put a spell on my heart. Some connections can never be broken. One thing you will learn one day, when your mortal body gives up, is that everything is connected. I will watch from afar, with joy, as you save that young soul I asked you to save, so very long ago....he has more to teach you than I ever got the chance to. One love never rules out another, it only makes every love stronger."
As Philon was consumed into particles, spreading like fireworks into the omnipresent space that was no longer a desert, but rather more like a black ocean depth, his voice lingered briefly.
"...goodbye, my love", whispered Livius, while hearing Philon repeat the same words simultaneously. At least he believed he heard so. Looking once more at his hands and feet, he saw that there were no shackles there. In fact, there was only nothingness - oblivion.
He ...
... opened his eyes.
He was back in the room where he had fallen asleep only yesterday. Outside the window, dawn must have been breaking, because the crimson light reflected beautifully against the large head of a brown minotaur, who looked intensily at him. The eyes of the minotaur looked very concerned, and his stance was quite insecure, as if he had been unable to sleep, weighing decisions against one another all night. Perhaps he had been doing that, and perhaps he had chosen to stay with the strange human mage who had saved his life. Livius remembered it all. The young soul had chosen to stay with him. He wanted to be saved, and so did Livius. The human opened his lips, and as his first word was spoken, the minotaur flinched his ears. But then, after a few seconds of contemplation, he drew a hopeful smile at the human who had just called out his name.
"Matteus..."
_ _
_ -_End of Part 2-
NOTE: Below are the lyrics that I wrote to a song that has not been recorded. I wanted the song to reflect the events in "Finding Home" aswell as being "open-ended" so that people from all walks of life can relate to the lyrics whether they have read this story or not.
Shackled in Memory Lane
I glance the mirror - To see what's there I see some clothes and - No more, just air It's like I left all - I ever was In the ashes - In my loss
And there you'll find me - Some parts are claimed They're in the fires - They're bathed in flame I cannot touch them - Too far away A mirror shows them - Night bright as day
This I left behind - This I fled in vain Buried, dead and blind - Shackled in memory lane
I scarcely know me - From reflections shown It's such an old "me" - He cannot grow He only stumbles - Covered in death He should be gone now - He's out of breath
He seemed to search for - Someone who's gone His body ached then - He saw no dawn Where did he walk to - Who held his hand? Was I that person - Leaving that land?
I walked with regret - I traversed the plains Parts are still there yet - Shackled in memory lane
I lay myself down - Upon my bed Weary and tired - From tears I shed And in the mirror - I see your face Smiling and laughing - With warmth and grace
Far past the room now - Where I sleep I hear your voice call - Resounding deep It gives me comfort - And guides my way Back in your arms now - Can I stay?
In dreams I return - And there is no more pain Nothing more that burns - No shackles in memory lane