Legend Of Su

A vague legend of a dream. There all men remain written in history as legends.

Part 1

The frost had just begun to lie it’s groundwork on which it would work on to build its icy dominion. Darcy was in his room, sleeping.

Days past and the frost slowly built itself a land of ice, covering the live greenery of the past. Darcy looked at the sky, it was a pale blue of some rare kind, opening the way for some yellow shine. It was snowing, the flakes somehow endured the northern winds to reach Darcy .He was in the park, looking at the sky and he was alone.

More days past and the frost grew with an unusual thickness.  As Darcy was going back to his shabby apartment, something appealed to him.  It was an old oak tree.

It was unusual in position; its branches were thin, fighting the heavy snow, enduring nature. The air was freezing his lungs and his sweat turning into icy stalactites. He was tired but his apartment was a good one hour and a half of walk. He did not have a car or the luxury to drive one.  He sat down in a comfortable position, leaning on the tree and tried to forget about the cold. The sky was velvet red and the moon was full and pale. Songs of old rang into his ears; the land of shadows had now taken its toll on Darcy’s mind.

 

 

Part 2

He was in a land of snow. The sky was as white as it could ever be, ice ash was empowering the skies and the northern winds were strong. Before him was a large bloomed oak tree. Its bark seemed brown and warm and attractive to Darcy’s eyes. He was standing at the mercy of cold snow bombardments.

From the inside Darcy noticed that the stretch of the tree’s branches were semi-spherical, a womb of nature laying in an ageless slumber. There, Darcy lay sleeping for the wind was cold but the prospect of the tree gave him soothe to his body and soul. And so he slept inside this dream. Time went on; the season slowly drifted and Darcy was still sleeping.

He slowly woke up as spring came. He slowly recovered his senses; he gradually stood up only to see the oak tree empty of life. Its branches were thin; the bark that was brown and healthy was now draining away in a quiet grey.

Pain soon entered his body, his hand was burning. He could feel his fingers rupture as if they were melting from the inside out. His nails had fallen off and his fingers were thin and grey. Grey like the dead tree...

The land was green, the northern winds had dissipated. This awkward dream of a land was lying in front of him. North of where the old tree stood; far away, lay a large white mountain and on its crown there was a cloud of mist and inside it of it, a dim beating thunder light.

Its peak was snowy and its rock was hard and wet.  Its surface was coning itself towards the mist, towards where Darcy was headed.

As he got to the top, there were steps leading to a ruin of some sort. There lay a temple with four large pillars. And on top of it laid a tower with a burning white sphere, the sanctuary was comprised of one master room; its walls were of fire bursting with infernal colours. In the deep middle of it was a bright burning flame, the heart of it beating with heat.

In front of the fire was an obsidian coloured block. Darcy went to it. It was as if time stopped, the journey towards the block was slow and hard, his feet had become heavy and hard to move. His shadow fading into the light...

There at the centre of it all, there was a knife, he mindlessly grabbed it. Its metal was green and polished. The knife was curved as its handle slowly turned into a dragon with two red ruby eyes.

Darcy was on the floor, His eyes had started to bleed red and he could feel burning magma pouring through his veins as they exploded pores of blood and magma out of his skin. He lay on the floor foaming spit and blood. Soon his body started to burn, turning to red ash.

He lay by the obsidian block, slowly turning to ash as his hope had vanished in thin air. Holding onto the dagger as he was being consumed, a dragon scream was heard as his last second of existence faded into history.

Part 3

The oak tree was dead and lifeless indeed. The mountain top seemed dark and the mist had some visual threaten to it. The only hope was the beating light which truthfully also was terrifying. Nonetheless it was his instinct that called in and there were none to tell him otherwise.

The land of nature seemed to grow in life as he furthered himself from the dead oak. Although it was night and all seemed slumbering unto mother Gaia, still, there was a feeling of life, and this gave him joy. In the dark greenery he found a cave, it smelt of mossy water and rusting iron; its rock was cold but nonetheless it seemed as a cover from whatever danger was within the vast exotic land.

The cave was dark. As he entered, his damaged arm touched the inner walls of the natural tunnel. Suddenly, through all that darkness, Darcy could see. The cave was now as clear as daylight he looked outside and it was still night. Hours past as he was shifting through the vast tunnel, mindlessly being drawn deeper and deeper within the rabbit hole , stalactites and stalagmites were all there. Some were big while the others were bigger; this natural vastness seemed infinite and random. Yet, there was some ancient knowledge to his cave.

In the heart of the cave was an egg. A black egg boiling in melting magma, it was in the heart of it all. The cave was silent; all that was heard was the grumbling of molten rock. The egg hatched, dark winds came out of it singing: ‘Su! Su! Su!’

The winds calmed down. Darcy was there and there was someone else. A man with a burning coal for an eye, it was crying black smoke. Darcy stood there silent, scared, confused. The man was standing and he stepped on the magma as it turned to dark obsidian, making a path as black as night.

He was standing in front of Darcy looking at him. He touched Darcy and as he did so, he could feel himself swallowed by some astral force. The man’s eye started dimming and shining, endlessly feeding and endlessly hungering. Darcy was trying to pull himself away and as he tried so, a stalactite had fallen on the man. It was time to run. He ran, an as the man limped through the cave flaming his hands.

He had reached the outskirts and it was night. He could still feel stretched, as if deep down inside he was thinner. Darcy could smell smoke and ash and he ran further. The clouds shined in their bubbly mass like silver. A loud screaming roar came from the temple top as its shining light dimmed and the land seemed a little darker than before.

Part 4

Su was looking for Darcy. Darcy was running away from Su, it was an unfortunate situation. Soon, Su would find him and so Darcy decided to return to the oak tree in hope.

It was a cluster of grey matter clinging onto its own weight; fighting just to exist. Darcy was there as the ash of the oak tree had been voyaged by the air. Darcy heard sadistic laughs, he was thinking of facing Su face to face but that would've been suicide. The ashes drifted towards the mountain where Darcy had seen that the mountain top had regained some of its vigour- though it was still low in life.

The peak was sturdy and its rock was hard. Inside this misty peak was a temple. Echoes of laughter drew in closer. Darcy ran inside the temple. There was a black obsidian block placed in front of a warm beating fire. It was not Su’s fire... but soon it would be. On this obsidian block was a green dagger that grew into a dragon as he looked at the handle. The dragon had two ruby eyes but one was missing.

Darcy’s shadow had slowly dissipated in the darkness as the fire dimmed. He could smell something similar to burning asphalt. He could see strings of dark smoke lacing themselves against the belly of the room. Su was there. His eyes were fiery, his hands were claws of fire melting rock on touch and his mouth was foaming with inferno.

The fiend grabbed Darcy to the temple’s crown. There it cried and the clouds fled as if they were in fear. It had Darcy by his waist, slowly burning him to ash, consuming him. Darcy was fading, what had happened? He was not meant to kill this monstrosity. For a brief second Darcy yielded and then thunder. It crashed onto Darcy’s dagger empowering it.

He flung the dagger at Su. They both fell down the tower. It was crying , choking on its own magma phlegm. “Help... me...!” it cried as it or so it came to be understood by Darcy for the monster was releasing in-human voices; distortions of some ancient language.

It was now dead, the fire in the temple slowly brightened as it was flaming into dust. The dagger was complete, it had two ruby eyes and as Darcy looked into one, he could see a figure trying to crack the ruby in an effortless struggle.

He lay by the temple floor tired and damaged. Su’s fire had not left him un-scarred. His body was weak and slowly decaying into dust. The moon shined red and the clouds were silvery.

 

By

Suavis Umbra

Author's Note

Thank you for reading it.