By: Tahquil Posted on: June 30, 2016
The figure sat on the river bank and waited, and while he waited, he watched.
A small thrum throbbed through the desolate landscape and soon a shadow fled out of the darkness. It stumbled, slipping on the barren ground and fell flailing towards the waters. He too had felt that thirst, that desperation to slake a parched throat. He had wretched when he awoke in the darkness, death and decay pervaded his every sense. Crawling, gagging and then.. standing, running towards the thundering roar of the river, his beacon of something in this land of nothing.
The figure leaned forward and watched the shadow expectantly. If he had a heart it was stopped, the seconds dragging on for eternity before a faint glimmer of light trickled disappointment into his chest. The aurulent motes coalesced about the shadow and a whisper brushed over his mind. "Rest."
So, one had come for this one as well.
So far, lights came for all of them. A thrum, a shadow and then a light would take them away. Even when the thrumming shook the realm with its deafening drumming and the shadows flocked to the river in their torn regiments the lights would come. In fact, that was probably his favourite time. The lights twinkled like stars in a clear sky as they appeared and vanished, each of them whispering their soothing words.
"Come." "Don't move." "Observe."
Every so often a shadow would run into the water and be swept away in the swift currents. When he first saw it, his chest swelled with hope. Another like him, one a light did not come for. Despite the cold gnawing at his bones he ran beside the thrashing figure, calling out to it promises of hope and rescue. However, it eluded his grasp and as it was swept over the falls, his heart sank as in the churning pool below another light collected it. "Weak," the voice growled and he was suddenly thankful that particular light had not come for him.
Disheartened, the figure wandered upstream once more and took his seat among the sharp stones. There he waited, watching as each shadow was claimed and taken away from the darkness and resumed his wonderings of when his light would come.
It seemed like an age until something diverged from the routine, but how can someone tell the passage of time in a land of infinite darkness? Below the roar of the river the regular crunch of heavy footsteps fell with regularity. The figure stood and turned, seeking out the source of the noise that dared to break his somber reverie.
The giant froze in the figure's gaze, hesitating a heartbeat before casting his glowing crimson eyes to the ground and begrudgingly continuing his approach. A formidable aura surrounded the statuesque stranger, and fear suddenly leapt up and squeezed its cold fingers about the figure's theoretical heart.
Wh-Who are you? Are you my light?
The mammoth man gave a sneer of amusement as he shook his head, the crown of shadows on his brow flickering with agitation from the small movement. "No, I am not a light. I am Ugrach, until recently Lord of the Undead. Those lights were the Gods and Goddesses escorting the souls of mortals back to their lives. But, that is my duty now. "
But, why didn't Anyone come for me?
"Because you are beyond Their perception. In the dark They can see the souls of mortals who are meant to be returned. I see those souls as well as the souls of those who move on to their rest." Gently, the new Guardian of the Soulrealms placed his hand on the shoulder of of the figure. "For now, it is time for you to rest."
Oh.
For the first and last time, the Lord of the Undead walked side by side with the late Master of Death among the silent and somber Halls. Still, a single remark was passed. "You know, you look older without the mask."