Chapter Text
Take Flight on Golden Wings
The God of dreams was... a greedy one. Manipulative in her ways of dominion. She raised an army of great beings, ruled over their lives with a grip of fear and misery. Stole away their names and their livelihoods. Stole away their hopes, their dreams and their salvations. She razed villages to ashes and built a kingdom of corruption.
Her most prized follower was a boy of great power. Though slight, he carried a power within him that even Gods trembled before. His crystalline polearm stained red with the lives of those he cut short. Tainted with the malevolence of slaughter and karmic debt. His porcelain skin painted a ruddy brown of dried gore, and golden eyes turned copper, as the soul within him perished under his Gods tyranny.
This boy was an adeptus, surely once upon a time he was a marvel to look upon. To bow to in reverence, and love. Now he is nothing more than a wraith, his name contracted to a God who he does not love, and who does not love in return. He was young –younger- than he is right now when he met the God. When his naivety was taken advantage of, and the great wings upon his back were clipped.
And the story began like this:
“Hello little one,” The God said upon crossing paths with the young adeptus.
“Hello,” The boy replied in turn. His eyes shining brilliant, and his visage open in childlike wonder and trust.
“What would someone so young be out so late for?”
“I’m keeping them safe,” Replied the boy, his gaze falling upon the sleeping village before him.
The huts were made of straw and mud, and a rudimentary pathway ran through the village square, ran down over many years of wagon wheels and hurried feet.
“On such a peaceful night as this? What ever would they need protection from?”
The God smiled down at the small boy. Her façade was well practiced. Seeming nothing more than a gentle woman. She was slight in body, but vicious in mind and heart. She did not chance upon this adeptus, no, she knew of him, and his gifts. She wanted nothing more than to raise him. Create herself the perfect weapon to tear apart the other Gods vying for a seat upon Celestia. She would carve a path of bloodlust and rage, and sit upon a throne of corpses if it would guarantee her spot as an Archon. A ruler of Teyvat.
“I’m keeping the nightmares away,” Replied the boy, a bamboo flute was clutched tightly in his hands, he chanced a small smile at the God before turning back to the slumbering village.
“My, what a valiant task. Do you love this village dearly?” The God sat on the ground beside the boy,
“Yes, ma’am” replied the boy, as he fiddled with the flute.
“I bet one as sweet as you has many friends then. A nice place to call home with a village that adores you so”.
The boy was silent beside her, he chewed on his bottom lip, before giving one mournful shake of his head, dark stained hair tinted with streaks of teal, shifted lazily around his full cheeks.
“No?”
“No, Ma’am,” The boy replied in turn.
“Azlin,” The boy made a hum of confusion, his eyes glancing towards the Gods faces, his lips turned down in uncertainty. “My name, young one.” Replied she, her voice coated with honey.
“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am,” replied the boy.
“Do you not have friends in this village?”
“No ma’am, I don’t speak with them”
“Azlin,” The God reminded him gently.
“Lady Azlin”.
“How do you stave off the nightmares sweet one?”
“I eat them”. Replied the boy.
“Do you like them?”
“No, they are awfully cold and bitter, but this is my job, so I will keep them safe”.
“Do you eat dreams as well?”
“That is not allowed Lady Azlin”.
“Surely, they must taste better. If nightmares are bitter... dreams, then must be sweet”.
“It is not allowed Lady Azlin,” The boy was adamant in his refusal.
“Are you not curious?”
“It... It is not allowed Lady Azlin”
“I have dominion over dreams young one, did you know that?”
“No, Lady Azlin”.
“Would you like to try a dream sweet one?”
“...Not allowed”. The boy whispered, his head bowed to his chest, a curtain of black hiding his face from the God.
“If there was no consequence. Would you be curious? Would you satiate that curiosity?”
“I...”
“You can try them young one. My realm of protection will keep you safe, all I need is the name of whom I should be protecting”.
“All you need...is my name?”
“Yes, young one, something as simple as your name. How should I call you?”
“Alatus...ma’am”
How easy it was, to catch someone so young. Unbeknownst to Alatus, he signed away his name to the greed ridden God, and shackled himself in metaphoric chains, that tied him to his Gods beck and call.
“Eat them all, young Alatus. This village sits advantageous and it will be mine to have”.
A sickness welled up in his thin chest, and compelled was he to consume. To eat, to devour and gorge himself upon the dreams of the villagers. And Gorge himself he did, the bamboo flute tumbling to the ground as he set off towards the village, the wind carrying him forward with ease. The dreams were cold, and sweet. Light as they slithered down his throat. Coating him in an addiction that for years upon years will tear at his being.
He ate, until he felt as if he would vomit, and his stomach would burst open. Ate the dreams until there was nothing but a village full of empty husks. Breathing husks of people no longer able to do anything more than breath and blink. No ambition to shine in their eyes, no love to swell in their hearts.
They are living corpses and nothing more.
When the task had been fulfilled Alatus dropped to the floor, vomiting into the grass below him. Nothing but water spilled from his mouth, and his chest heaved, his stomach clenched in agony. Those metaphorical chains loosened around him, but leave they did not.
“Good boy Alatus. You have done so wonderfully”.
“Why?” He cried out; his voice broken.
“You should be careful to those you entrust your name too”.
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A few centuries later is when our story truly takes place. Sat upon a dirt and blood worn floor was Alatus, his great wings dragging down behind him. They used to be greater, grandeur, splendorous in their vision. They once were a magnificent teal so dark in shone almost black in nature, and each feather lined beautifully in gold. The feathers seeming to shimmer in the sunlight and glowed wonderfully under the moon. He still had down feathers then, downy grey poking out beneath the feathers, a testament to his youth.
Now however, they do not shine in the sunlight, barely is Alatus permitted out in the mornings. And even still there is barely anything left to gleam in the moonbeams. His great wings consist primarily of that baby down that clung consistently to the skeletal frame of his wings, matted from failed molts and dried carnage, and any feathers that remained were bent and bloodied, half cracked pins pricked painfully in his skin. These were not wings fit for flying. They are damaged, and scarred and sit heavy on his back.
But they are comforting. A reminder that he once was free, and that maybe one day he will be free again. He dares not reveal his wings to his mistress. She dislikes it greatly that he can take to the skies. Or, that he could at one point as it were. She on several occasions tried to tear the wings from his back, and it left him quaking on the floor before her feet, back bloodied and bruised where she gouged at his shoulder blades.
“Alatus!”
The boys head shot up, his wings shimmering out of sight behind him. He stood quickly, the metaphorical chains pulling him to his feet and the real chains rattled and scrapped along the floor.
He bowed in cowed reverence to his Mistress, his bones shivering under translucent skin.
“I have a job for you sweet one”, Her voice was thick, full of fake sweetness that tasted bitter in his throat.
“Yes, Mistress” Replied Alatus. His head shifting closer to his chest.
“There is a village some ways south, they are situated along an ore vein, we will need access to ensure my men have a steady supply of weaponry”. She stroked her thumb beneath Alatus’ eye and lifting his face harshly upwards. “We need this in order for us to rein victorious, you want what's best for me don’t you sweet one?”
“Yes mistress,” Came the solemn reply of Alatus. In truth, he would rather her fall, for her to suffer at the hands of someone stronger, better than she. Wanted nothing more than to fall alongside her. For all the torment to fall silent, and for those who he has wronged so terribly to finally find rest in his death.
“Go, you are to return at sundown no later”. She said turning away from him, the metal around his ankles falling away from him, cold air rushing to the raw and abused skin. “Slaughter those who show you resistance, and devour the dreams of those who dare to stand against me.”
Alatus left the stone room quickly, the will of his mistress moving him forward in a call impossible to resist, and resist he has tried. The stars blinked brightly overhead, and Alatus wanted nothing more than to bask in in the starlight, gleam under the soft moon. Wanted to feel the mischievous wind caress across sore skin and be healed with its liberty.
That’s not to say he hasn’t felt the wind, in actuality he felt it strongly, urgently pulling against him. Pushing him away as his body burst forward. Almost begging him to stop, to cease the endless battles, and hurt. Almost as if the wind felt betrayed by his actions. Wondering desperately where the little bird who soared upon the currents has gone. Lamenting the hatchling who chased butterflies; the one that turned into nothing more than a bloodhound that worked only for his next meal.
‘I am so sorry’ Alatus would whisper for the wind to hear.
The village came into view faster than Alatus would have liked. He stood on the cliff overlooking the tiny mining village, watched as mortals milled around a cooking pot situated in the center of the village. Listened to the idle chatter that hummed around him, observed the children chasing each other around, weaving in between the legs of adults, their voices shrieking in glee and unbridled joy.
How cruel, thought Alatus that someone such as he were to exist.
The chains of his fate constricted tightly around him, and he found himself calling forth his polearm. The once beautiful blade dirtied after years of wear and tear yet the blade still sharp and unforgiving. Alatus’ legs stiffened at the knee before he launched himself high into the air, and plunged to the earth below him. The backlash of his descent produced a shower of blood in its wake.
The screams were immediate. People scattered around him. Mothers grabbing their children and fleeing in terror. Men grabbed the nearest weapon, a desperate attempt to defend. Alatus moved quickly, his blade severing anything that fell in its path. Dying screams and the gurgle of blood echoing in his ears. A cacophony of desperation and pain. Men, women, and elderly all fell to the might of his blade, even children were not spared in his mistress's attempt at domination.
People darted to the tree lines, threw themselves off cliff sides, and ran through river banks in a fleeting attempt to expand their lives even a moment longer. Some of them, those few lucky –or unlucky- that managed to escape the bloodhound of Azlin would live in fear for the rest of their days, wondering just when another attack would come. Spend their days looking to the clouds, in preparation of a spear that spared none.
Those that lay bleeding at Alatus’ feet would feed his temptations. Dreams wispy and silver would cool him lips and wet his appetite. The soft and luxurious nicety made him sick in a way that was nauseating in mind and heart. The taste heavenly on his tongue yet sour on his stomach. Would give him a glimpse of a false happiness not his own, but one he has stolen. A joy and a burden so heavy it crumpled his shoulders with their weight.
The dreamless lay dying, breathing through blood clotted lips, and rattling rib cages.
The carnage was devastating, and Alatus could do nothing more than stand in the middle of it, his breath ragged, and his heart heavy. Wounds bled sluggishly on his skin, nicks and cuts from stray blade and arrows in the villagers' valiant attempt at retribution. His shoulders trembled, and he released his weapon, watching idly as it shimmered away.
“I’m sorry,” He croaked, his voiced ghosting across the silence. His shoulders shook, and try as he might, he could not find it in himself to produce a tear even in this immense sadness.
‘Back before sundown’ his mistress has said. Alatus fled the scene quickly, finding himself in the frigid mountain of Mondstat. The cold sunk into his bones and soothed the broken skin. He shuddered, the white of the snow pulled the red from his skin and turned scarlet for its efforts. His stomach clenched painfully, and the sweetness of the dreams sat bitter on his tongue. He shoveled the snow in his mouth, desperate to rid himself from the luxurious tang. He consumed the frozen confection until he felt frigid bile climb up his throat and he collapsed to his side.
‘I just want to stay right here’ thought Alatus, wanted to decompose on this iced over soil, and never again raise his blade against an innocent. He closed his eyes gently in a false sleep and let the world move around him. For a few moments, just a fleeting instant he can pretend that he is but a small child once more, dancing with the wind in an open valley. There are no screams, only song, and the flowers are the ones that bend beneath his feet, not bodies. For a fleeting moment he is Alatus, a child of the wind, and not the bloodhound of Azlin.
For just a moment he is at peace. Just for a moment he is still.
Moments, however do not last forever, and soon enough the sun began to dip in the horizon. Those chains of servitude choked around him, and Alatus dragged himself to time worn feet. The trip back to his mistress's domain seemed too short and soon enough he was hidden away from the stars, and chained back up in his stone walled room, the Lady Azlin purring in glee before him.
“You have done so wonderfully sweet one,” She stroked her hand through blood matted hair, and ticked her lips up in the cruel imitation of a smile. “You serve so wonderfully”.
Alatus said nothing, his eyes downcast and trying desperately to choke back the sobs that threatened to bubble forth.
“We’ll let the village be for a moment, make sure there are no fools brave enough to step upon its soil. After that we shall claim the territory,”
Alatus looked up in a confusion. Wait? When had Lady Azlin ever waited to claim her victory. Acid bubbled in Alatus’ throat and he swallowed it back down in trepidation.
“You have just slaughtered a village very close to the territory of another God, sweet one. Best to keep our distance for now.” She tapped his nose with the tip of her well-manicured finger, the skin soft and unblemished. “Sweet dreams Alatus”.
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It would appear, that the God whose territory that Alatus encroached upon, was not the forgiving sort. A talk of an upcoming battle spread through Azlin's domain like fire. Sparking apprehension in those who serve under her. The whisperings of those who do not wish to lose their lives in the servitude of a God they despise. The mortals that stake claim in the confines of her kingdom, are plucked from the streets and outfitted in worn down weaponry and bent armor. They are to ‘fight for their right of coexistence with the esteemed God of Dreams’. Their God grew agitated, and defensive. Striking down anyone who caused her even the slightest irritation, or questioned her methods. Fed their dreams to her loyal hound, and hung their bodies in the square as a reminder in just whose kingdom it was that they live in.
Days passed quickly, and blurred together with Alatus chained down in the stone room, and had nothing to keep him company but his ever-loud thoughts and karmic burn. It felt like eons before Lady Azlin stood before him once more, her face contorted into a frown. It was uncommon on her face, yet seemed to fit more than her acidic smiles.
“Come”. The chains fell from his legs and Alatus followed without question.
The two arrived at the throne room. Azlin's throne was made of strong silver and peppered with the glow of cor lapis. Wisps floated lazily around the seat, shifting and drifting around her as she sat. Alatus hesitated in the doorway for a moment, before coming to kneel before his mistress’s feet, his hands clasped fists around his knees, and bent his head to the floor. Lady Azlin stroked her hand down his back, in a lazy manner as she leaned back in her throne, the picture of calm and serenity.
“Let him in”. Alatus tensed beneath her hand, and Lady Azlin straightened slightly in her seat, a smile full of too many teeth sat idly on her cheeks.
A tall man walked confidently in the room, the power he exuded was astronomical, and the two people behind him were nothing to laugh about either. There was a tall man, scarred and shirtless. There were purple tattoos that curled around his...four(?) arms. Beside him was a woman slight in appearance but not in power. Her hair danced around her like flame, skin a beautiful burnt copper.
“Lord Morax, a pleasure truly to be in your presence”.
‘The warrior God’ Thought Alatus, he flinched beneath his Gods hand and huddled closer the floor.
“If only it were,” His voice was strong, and demanded attention and respect. It echoed through the hall and reverberated off the stone as if to swallow its occupants in its glory.
“Oh?” Azlin sat straight in her seat at last, removing her hand from her dogs back. She tossed her dark hair behind her and tilted her head to the side. “Have I done something to anger you?”
“The village that boarders my territory was wiped out a few moons ago. Tales of the survivors mention a young man that rained down from the skies”.
Azlin tensed behind him and nudged at Alatus’ side with her sharp heeled foot at the mention of survivors.
“Ah, yes. My boy here was told to find a location rich in ore. I apologize on his most grave error. You nor the Lady Guizhong have anything to fear. We dare not to over step your territory”. She said, stroking along Alatus’s back once more. “I will be sure to keep him on a shorter leash”.
Morax’s lip ticked downward for a moment before motioning to the woman behind him. He whispered something quietly to her, and then turned his attention back to Lady Azlin.
“Do you take me a fool Lady Azlin?”
“I would never besmirch the God of contracts in such a grievous way. I know of your prowess. Of yourself and the Lady Guizhongs’ intelligence. I know the might of your adepti and the might of the assembly. It was an error on his part and for that I offer my most sincere apologies”
“I see,” Morax’s chest rumbled in a deep unpleasant drone, he took a step closer. “And your...adeptus shares in your grievances I am to assume?”
“Why, most definitely. Apologize now pet. If one does wrong, they should admit to their misdeeds,” She nudged at him once more, her heels digging into abused skin. “He is still quite young, forgive him Honorable Morax, he is still learning. I had rescued him you see, from a most devastating environment”. Morax rumbled in response, his eyes turned down to the prostrating adeptus.
“Me apologizes Honorable Morax. This one did not know the errors of his ways. I will be more careful in the fulfillment of one's orders,” Alatus willed his voice steady, the sound grating over abused vocal cords and parched throat. He bowed lower, forehead pressing heavy in the stone below him.
Morax said nothing for a long moment, and the room grew heavy in trepidation. Lady Azlin shifted in her seat, a deep sigh fell heavy from her nose, as she leveled her gaze on the God before her and the two that stood behind him. Lady Azlin though greedy and vile was not foolish. She knew of the army that stood at the edge of her domain, awaiting the orders to attack. She had prepared for it, expected it, but for Morax to request an audience has shaken her planning and forced a hand she was unsure how to play appropriately. She knew that should she mess this up, should she meet the might of the Guili Assembly everything she had worked for and everything she strived to be would crash down around her.
“And the other villages that met the same fate. Those were accidents as well?” Morax said, he clasped his hands behind his back, his manners aloof and unbothered despite the situation.
“I was not aware those were part of your territories Morax. Perhaps I was mistaken. We are in a war are we not?”
He chucked and tipped his head in a short bow in her direction.
“It would appear that we are lady Azlin. However, those territories belonged to other Gods as well. Gods that fell by your hand,”
“Not my hand Lord Morax, but by the hands of my most loyal followers”.
“You do not deny then, that you are known for the total dominion of other territories?”
“I have stated as such, that a war is brewing in the lands of Teyvat. If I do not build my defense, how should one expect to keep safe in times as trifling as these?”
“Mm, an excellent point my Lady”, He took another step forward. “Then why, would one as prosperous as you not take control of the defeated territory immediately?”
“Out of respect for you Lord Morax. Surely, I would not want to make one such as yourself or your people nervous or fearful of a God too close to your domain”.
“So, the territory was taken intentionally then?”
“Ah...no Lord Morax of course not,” Azlin faltered in her seat, words tumbling from her lips. Alatus tensed further beside her, “I only meant, despite the most egregious act that was brought about by my own short comings, I would not let the land go stagnant, and instead give my people more room to expand. To turn something good out of tragedy”.
“A most noble cause on your part then”. He raised a brow and stared and the Lady Azlin with a stare that seemed to look right through her. “Why then, Lady Azlin, did you wait for me to come to you? Surely in the face of misunderstanding one would apologize for any misdeeds. A lesson you are trying to teach your young adeptus is it not? What better way to teach than to show? I would have felt far less threatened if you were to seek an audience yourself”.
“I feared for him Morax, nothing more”.
“You feared for him? Or did you fear for yourself Lady Azlin?” Morax summoned a polearm and held it lofty in his grip, The female behind him phasing out of existences in a flash of red and yellows. “Unfortunately for you Lady Azlin, I owe a duty to protect my people. I am afraid your tyranny ends here”
Azlin leapt quickly from her throne and summoned her catalyst quick to her hand, lighting sparking out to block Morax’s blow. The foundations crackled and shook around them.
“Protect your God!” Azlin shouted. The sound of battle rose beyond the castle walls, and Alatus was forced to his feet in his mistress’s demand. His bloodied polearm felt heavy in his grip as he launched himself at Morax, meeting him blow for blow as his mistress retreated further, shooting off sparks of pure elemental energy towards the opposing God.
Alatus’ arms shook at each impact, and he grit his teeth against the onslaught. He looked vicious with his teeth bared, truly like the dog that he is claimed to be, blood dried and flaked around his face and gore matted in long hair. His clothing was torn and stained, and a green tattoo glowed viciously on his arm.
Morax intercepted the swing of Alatus’ blade, and wrenched the polearm from his grip before shoving him away towards the towering man with four arms. Alatus dodged beneath a wide swing, and was blown sideways from another arm coming quickly behind him. The fist engulfed in an electric current caused his hair to stand on end and his insides to quiver. The man was massive, and the electricity he wielded did not bode well for Alatus. He rolled back to a crouch position and summoned his weapon once more.
Glancing back to his mistress found her locked in combat with the warrior God. She was quick on her feet, avoiding blows and sending out lighting at every chance. His lady was not made for combat. Never once has she raised a hand in conflict, always was it Alatus and others who dealt the blows for her. She was just manipulative, quick of tongue, but she would surely fall here, if she continued to fight unaided .
Alatus almost smiled in glee. Finally, a freedom of eternity, he could almost taste it. However as long as she lived, he would obey, and he found himself once more running in the direction of Morax.
An arrow clipped his ear and electricity buzzed unpleasantly though his bones. The man dematerialized his bow, and swung his fists once more towards the young adeptus, forcing him back further from the fight of his mistress.
“Your battle lies with me, bloodhound of Azlin,” His voice was deep and shook Alatus to the core. Fear danced in his throat as he dodged backwards away from the older adeptus.
Alatus swung out towards him, slicing at skin when the man made no attempt to dodge, he instead took the hit to one on the arms extending from his back, and pushed himself into Alatus personal space. The four-armed man grabbed the Back of Alatus neck and slammed him harshly to the ground. The stone shook and cracked beneath him from the force of the blow. Stunned, Alatus was almost too late to roll away from the next blow. He moved aside at the last moment, a fist meeting where his head lay only seconds prior.
“Fast one, aren’t you?” Alatus snarled at the man, and dashed forward quickly, his steps guided by the wind. His polearm met skin, and blood sprayed, coating the floor, and Alatus’ face.
There was no time for laxness as fire erupted on Alatus’ side. Quite literally it would appear, as the female adeptus reemerged in the throne room. A catalyst of flame dancing on her palms. His eyes darted towards his mistress once more, she was backed in to the corner and he saw the desperation in her eyes. The metaphoric chains tightened and compelled him to her side.
Again, were his efforts blocked. An electric filled blow to his head forced him to the side, and he staggered to gain his footing. His flesh burned and crackled uncomfortably with electro energy. Blood seeped steadily into his eye and his weapon shook in his grasp. Right, take out the enemy before him. There will be no more distractions. He flash-stepped closer to the behemoth of a man, only to be blown back into the unforgiving stone of the castle walls. Alatus dropped heavy to the ground.
The pyro user sat at a distance; her eyes trained solely on him. Not once did the two older adepti glance in the direction of their God. Right, pyro and electro cause large power outburst when they collide. Their involvement was well thought out it would seem. As an anemo user, he was at a disadvantage, any reactions he creates while hurting the enemy are more than likely to hurt him as well. He pulled himself to his feet, stumbling once and leaning his weight upon the staff that stuck harshly in the ground. He wrenched it free and dashed forward gathering the wind around him, he launched himself in the air, and plunged harshly to the ground. He staggered when he landed, and as predicted, the fire from the pyro user burned at his skin when it swirled around him, however it did the job of pushing the two further away from him.
He swung his weapon around and crouched into the defensive. He charged the larger man, and as he raised his arms into a block, Alatus changed direction heading for the fire woman, his blade cut cleanly through the muscle of her calf and she dropped quickly, unexpecting of the sudden change. She threw out a blast towards Alatus’ face as her back hit the ground.
“Indarias!” The man yelled, shooting an arrow of lighting in Alatus’ direction. The two elements collided and Alatus once more found himself rolling harshly across the ground. He trembled as he stood once more. The chains of his master choked into him harshly and Alatus gagged.
The woman was back on her feet albeit leaning heavily to one side. The two advanced on him, backed Alatus further towards the wall.
“You and your God shall no longer rein havoc upon the common folk”, Said the man, and Alatus choked back a hiccupping sob.
‘Please I don’t want this!’ He wanted to cry, but stubbornly his lips remained shut.
“Pet! To my side!” His mistress shrieked out as Morax stalked his way towards her. Her catalyst lay shattered on the floor, residual lighting still crackling along the stone.
“You will not pass us,” The female –Indarias- said, raising her weapon higher. The man balled up all four fists, and electro energy crackled around him.
“TO MY SIDE!”
The chains burned into alatus’ skin and he gasped stumbling forward, the two stepped back away from him. Green energy swirled around Alatus and he teleported from their side, and straight to the aid of his mistress.
When he reappeared, he was met immediately by Morax’s blade. It sunk harshly into his side, cutting smoothly into thin flesh, Blood splattered to the floor and Alatus coughed, spraying the white of Morax’s robes a morbid red. Morax furrowed his brow, but made no effort to remove his spear from Alatus’ side. Instead, he reached harshly past the young adeptus’ head, and wrapped long fingers around the throat of his mistress, who was not fast enough to break away.
Her face was bruised and broken in on the left where her cheek bone had shattered. She breathed ragged and spit at Morax’s face, blobs of saliva ran from his cheek, and a few drops of blood coated spittle landed at Alatus’ temple.
“You will never bother the assembly again Lady Azlin. Nor will you gain a seat upon Celestia”.
Power emitted from Morax, the golden lines on his arms glowed brightly in the dust covered throne room, and Alatus shivered at the proximity. He began to slip to his knees, the blade still buried in his side pulled harshly, and Morax let go of the hilt, watching with a morbid curiosity as it fell with the young boy. Behind him Lady Azlin began to turn to stone, she thrashed and struggled, screaming against the hand that held her so completely in place.
“I will not die here! I will be a plague upon this earth!” She shrieked as the stone encased her completely. It was silent apart from Alatus ragged breathing, his head resting against Morax’s foot, blood dripping from his lips.
Morax squeezed his hand once more and the form of Lady Azlin crumpled to the floor, dust covering the shivering form of her most loyal pet. The boy let out a ragged painful breath as the metaphoric chains dissolved around him, and Alatus would have sobbed in relief if he wasn’t so busy choking on his life.
“Please...” He hacked out, the word broken and painful. “Please....” He begged again.
Morax shifted his foot away and Alatus felt his head thump painfully to the stone below him.
The God kneeled next to the fallen boy, but said nothing, sharp, cor lapis eyes observing the one before him, and nothing more.
“Please....” Alatus said again.
“What do you beg for?”
Alatus’ dull eyes tracked across Morax’s frame. The God was tall and slender, but muscles were corded along his body, his arms were black in comparison to his fair visage, with thrumming gold lines running the length of them. His eyes were sharp, lined elegantly in red, his hair long and dark it reaching the middle of his back, and the tips were painted in copper. The most magnificent thing however, were the two horns curled out from his head; hey glowed faintly in this dusty abode.
“Please......” Alatus whispered once more. Morax reached his hand towards the boy's face, and Alatus could not stop the flinch that jerked through his frame. He hissed and cough around the blade dislodged in his side from the sudden movement.
The hand stilled before pulling away completely. Morax tilted his head to the side, as the two older adepti walked up behind their master.
“What is your name?”
Alatus jerked once more, curling his body tightly not caring anymore for the blade tearing his flesh.
‘You should be careful to those you entrust your name too’ The acidic voice of his mistress dancing painfully in his mind. Alatus clenched his eyes shut around the memory.
“Please......” He tried once more. Not sure why his desire was so hard to bring to light.
‘Please kill me’. Is what he wants to say. Wants to scream, to cry, to find salvation after centuries of pain he wants to rest dammit, why was this so hard!?
“Please......” The edges of Alatus vision began to fade, and Morax reached his hand out once more. Alatus didn’t have the power to move away, and felt his hand settle on matted hair.
“Why did you serve her?” He spoke again.
“Please....” Alatus huffed and closed his eyes around the dizziness. Morax hummed above him, the tone inquisitive in nature, inquisitive and … a little sad.
“Bosacius,”
“Yes, my lord...” came the quite rumble of the four-armed adeptus.
Four hands wrapped around him, squeezing slightly and Alatus felt the blade shift in his side and couldn’t stop the pain wheezed that fell past his lips. The hand on his head rubbed twice in reassurance, and then the blade was gone from his side, the brightness of the dematerialization burned through his eye lids.
“Please......” He begged once more.
“Indarias”. Morax rumbled close to his ear.
“Please......” begged Alatus.
“...Yes, my lord”. Came the soft voice of the pyro user.
Pain burst forth in Alatus side, and he could not stop the cry that burst from his lips. He struggled against the agony, waiting for death but not wanting the pain. The hands that were holding him squeezed firm, stopping the boys' movements, forcing him to endure. He could smell the iron tang of his blood burning.
“PLEASE!” Alatus shriek desperately, his body twitching in the hold of the four-armed man. The hand in his hair stroked gently. Alatus breathed ragged and fast as his mind fell further away from him.
“Please......” He sobbed out once more.