The final eclipse

A Chapter by Honourfish

Chapter 1: The final eclipse:

A miniscule, glimmering, essence of a crimson radiance composed the crust: boldly shining, circumferencing the powerful blood red reflection of the moon perfectly aligned with the pure scarlet sun almost merging into one profound, putrid, paradox.

Engulfed for eternity was the world’s fate as it lay still, cradling its poisoned surface, sinking no deeper than the skin. Infinite dead waiting patiently to decompose, to become one with their mistress, invisible to human’s oblivious senses. Too crude to comprehend the catastrophic, chaotic collapse of something that is but only an illusion.

Heightened walls of purest marble surround the dead, glowing feebly orange revealing the upward spiralling skeleton of the great city, ‘Arkthus’ where atop stood A temple of the gods. Silken pillars waved in the smooth breeze deceivingly solid supporting the sculpted roof of gold. Half the temple emitted a divine light in a half sphere too bright to look at directly yet so addictive it’s impossible to avert your eyes. Whilst the other half shadowed the surrounding dark with Saturated blackness, consuming a half sphere in equilibrium to the light so harsh yet so inviting.

A single sessile drop of blood slide slowly down the sharpest blade edge, resting temporarily at the tip, accumulating energy until the moment comes when it falls effortlessly to the smooth marble floor. The blade was one of a twin pair of duel swords, made from lightest divinium with a large curved pattern creating the fuller of the blade made from the darkest devastation.

Encircling loosely to the leather hilt curled four fingers terminating a muscular arm, pulsating veins, weaving skywards. The figure sourced the light. Head down, hanging fine golden blonde fur masking his face, expanding his chest engulfing substantial plumes of oxygen before relaxing excreting subtle carbon dioxide in order to exact his will. Blades hung loosely by his side, waiting.

A throne of malice rained upwards, smouldering the figure sat upon it sourcing the darkness. Long, worn, old fingers crept round a cold, cruel stave conceived by devastation tipped with an orb of liquid hatred. A Thin, weathering arm shrunk back into the crippled robe from which it came. Head high in expectation almost willing for a sign of fear: willing to taste it with sharpened, rotting teeth: willing to smell it with callous, moulding nostrils and willing to see it with endless caverns of black eyes.

“Immortality” grated the darkness quietly as if the effort of communication were to be mastered through great discipline. After a pause, “Calm yourself Artherus, you are awfully tense for a god” struggled the darkness emphasising ‘awfully’. A nonexistent squeak emanated from the movement of Artherus’s hand tightening on the extensions to his arms. “It’s the eclipse” cackled the darkness tauntingly “Let us be civil, tell me about how you came to be here, I am truly intrigued” Sneering from the throne echoed in a humouring voice.

A smile crept up the side of Artherus’s face as the grip fell loosely again on his swords. “Did you know a god never forgets?” asked Artherus in a commanding easy tone stained subliminally with sickness.

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