Tragedy - Catarin and Castomira.
By: Alythea Posted on: June 01, 2012
With a sigh, she placed her brush on the stool beside her and looked up to inspect her handiwork.
A canvas rested on an easel before her, two figures curled together beside a swirling lake. The look on their faces was one of pure terror, as the blackened visage of a fierce Chaos Lord began to rise from the pentagram carved upon the earth. Bound at both hands and feet with shackles of solid iron, the figures could only lay and watch as their fate came for them.
Glancing across to the dying fire, she slowly rose from her perch and added more wood to the coals. As the blaze grew, she returned once more to her work. Chewing thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek, she picked up her brush, dipping it carefully into a paint the hue of freshly spilled blood. Quick, even strokes across the top of the image caused it to burst to life, a shudder ripping across her spine.
Using her finger, she traced the outline of both figures, whispering foreign words as she did so. With a final word, her work was done. It would happen this very night.
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Two days earlier Catarin deSangre glided into the castle on a cloud of pure happiness. Her love, Lucaine Pyramides, was to come to her this Eve. A grand ball had been prepared in his honour, and in the honour of their promised union. In only 5 days time, they would be wed and all would be well in Catarin's life. She smiled as she recalled the deep timbre of his voice, the wayward charm that twinkled in his eyes as he spoke of their life together.
Their meeting had been fate, though not the gentle kind and though the memory of that day angered Catarin, she did her best to push it from her mind. Castomira Brangwin had failed and would some day soon pay for her treachery. But still the memory hounded her. Lucaine had drawn his sword, had held it's deadly blade to her throat. Three Moons had hungered for her blood and yet when he had looked into her eyes, has hand had been stayed. Was love behind his reason, or was his betrayal of Castomira something more? Shaking her head, she finally cleared the thoughts from her mind and continued to her room to dress.
Stepping into her chamber she stopped suddenly, horror overcoming her features as icy hands began to claw at her chest. A piercing scream escaped from between her lips and the claws dug their way beneath her flesh, one hand wrapping itself around her heart, the other pulling at her throat and neck. As the colour slowly drained from her flesh, she reached up to try and battle against the hands, yet found herself grasping only at empty air. As suddenly as it had appeared, the feeling vanished and she began to inhale deep gulps of air in an attempt to catch her breath. Slowly, the rosy glow returned to her skin and she slid to the floor, a harsh cry erupting from deep within. Tears fell down her cheeks, as sobs wracked her body as she curled into a ball. The maid found her an hour later, asleep, her cheeks stained with tears, her arms wrapped around herself, fingers digging tightly into her skin.
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Occult power radiates from the cloaked form as she makes her way towards the edge of the forest, her strides purposeful, her gaze focused on the lake ahead. As she reaches the breach between Forest and waters edge, she kneels down and scoops up a handful of dirt. Muttering a chant, she dips her hand, dirt and all, into the water. Turning quickly, she hurls the sodden clump against the trunk of a nearby tree. As it slides down the bark, she chants a few more words and points at the mud, turning it a deep shade of crimson. As the now bloodied dirt continues it's trail down the length of the bark, the tree begins to wither and fall, leaves crumbling to dust as the fall from branches, bark turning grey and shriveled as it drops on the forest floor. With a few more whispered words, she points once more at the tree, a smile alighting on her features as it finally crumbles to nothing, the area where it once stood now blackened and dead.
Taking a small dagger from a pouch at her waist, she draws it quickly across her palm, holding it over the area of Forest she has just desecrated. With a few small movements of her bleeding hand, she creates a pentagram of blood on the ground, over which she then sprinkles a sheen of diamond dust. Glancing up, she notices the slowly rising sun and quickens her pace. Using the dust from the tree, she covers the pentagram and with a few last words, she strides back towards the shadowy embrace of the Forest.
A squirrel, having watched the proceedings of the hooded woman, moves to the spot she once occupied, and sniffs tentatively at dead earth. A small squeak can be heard, a sudden puff of smoke can be seen, and as the smoke clears, nothing but the scent of charred fur and flesh remains of the squirrel.
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It was a cold dawn in Seleucar, a dense fog settling over the Inn she was about to walk into, yet Catarin could not have been happier. It was the morning of her wedding to Lucaine, and she knew all would be well. She had been blessed by the Divine, and knew none would wish to incur Their ire. Castomira was on some far off plane, so there was no need to fear action from her. Catarin knew it was her that had first hired Lucaine to kill her, and knew she must still be fuming from her failed assassination attempt. With her not being present, Catarin was certain that the joining of her and her beloved would go well. Still, the cold weather brought with it an ominous chill. Catarin could not forget what had happened to her the previous day, and the fog of the morn did nothing to dispel the thoughts of those icy claws from her mind.
"Lady Catarin, you are in peril. Please, do not go on with this plan"
Turning, Catarin saw an old woman had stepped from the shadows of the Inn, her robes tattered as though one of the many homeless that littered the City, yet her stooped form held refinment, and her bony fingers were lined with many expensive rings. There was the wisdom of ages within her crinkled eyes and though the features of her face were wrinkled and creased, an aura of youth emanated from her. Again, she spoke, looking deep into Catarin's eyes.
"There is danger in this day, danger for you, M'Lady."
"Whatever can you mean? This is a day of joy, one of happiness. My beloved and I shall be joined, and all shall celebrate this moment."
"Enter the Forest and seek the broken ground M'Lady. You will see."
A final look at Catarin, and the woman swirled away to disappear into the fog.
Biting her lip, she turned from the Inn and started to walk towards the Forest. She had no idea what the old woman had been talking about, for she knew of no place where the Forest had been broken, but she knew of someone who might.
Deep within the Forest she knew dwelled the Druid of Ages. If there were happenings in the Forest, then he would surely know. Catarin followed the path she had trod many times, often in her youth until she came to the place were the brambles closed in on themselves. Brushing her hand carefully across the face of them, she whispered a small incantation and the brambles parted to let her past. Stepping into the grove that had now been revealed, she walked to the base of a giant oak, and peered up into the canopy above.
"Snarry, I know you're up there. Come down here, I need to speak with you"
Though many had thought him dead during the War of the Deeps, Snarry had disappeared when it was found that his grove had been the portal through which the Tsol'teth had emerged from. This had caused him great shame and so he hid here in this Forest, his punishment from the Divine shown in his immortality. Living with his guilt had become his greatest burden to bear.
He peered down from his tree-top perch and noticed Catarin below. As she called to him, he clambered down the tree, nimble for one of such an advanced age, and stood before her. Without saying a word, he turned and walked further into the Forest, stopping a moment to beckon for her to follow. Moving lithely and quickly he weaved his way through mazes of trees, and she had to jog sometimes to keep up with him. She saw the Lake coming up in front of them, and it was here that Snarry slowed his steps. Turning to face her, he pointed ahead of them to a dark patch of earth very near to the waters edge. As she walked over to it, vines began to snake around her ankles, and though she struggled to free herself from the grasp, she was pulled quickly up, until she was hanging by her ankles.
A look of comprehension crossed her face as she saw the sorrow and shame in Snarry's eyes. Once more he had betrayed those that had trusted him, though this time, the Divine would not be so forgiving.