Darkness Surrounding - Ch.1
Title: Darkness Surrounding
Author: pimprevster
Rating: PG
Summary: A plague has befallen the city. One jagged scar torn across Arin's back marks him for death. Ten attacks, ten lines, and he will never be seen again. The strange part is that the assaulting darkness seems all too human.
Disclaimer: Not real. Never happened, I don't know or own anything here.
Notes: Constructive criticism makes me very happy.
Prologue
The scar on his back would never heal. It was a straight horizontal slash in dead-center of his torso, already closed but bulging slightly with a shimmer of bloody ooze where the laceration had been made. If you looked closely enough, the cut was a perfect jagged pattern. No human tool could have done that to soft human skin. It was like craft scissors to paper.
He was lucky to be alive, they told him. Many victims couldn’t handle the attacks, either physically or mentally, but Arin’s wits were fully intact and his body healthy enough to withstand the stress. Only now he had the permanent mark of Erebus upon his back, which set his fate.
Nine more attacks. On the tenth, he would disappear off the face of the planet.
Arin seated himself on the backmost pew of the chapel, hands held together in silent prayer. It was well before service hours, but he had been unable to sleep. As a priest he could access the chapel anytime he wanted.
In the past, anyone could access it anytime they wanted. It had been open for prayer twenty-four hours a day. Then one of the attacks took place inside the holy castle itself, on a lone worshipper, and it had been closed during night time ever since. That attack was very well the church’s greatest shame.
When he unclasped his fingers and raised his head, another priest was sitting beside him. The other young one with shoulder-length dark hair and an aura that screamed enigma. He was intimidating at first, and sometimes Arin thought that the only reason he had been able to join the clergy was because his father was the head of it, but those who spoke to him found that he was much friendlier than he appeared.
“You’re at risk here, too, y’know,” Brian said. He sounded almost concerned. It was always hard to tell exactly what Brian was feeling; there weren’t many alterations in his tone of voice. “Just as much as the townspeople. Especially after what happened two nights ago.”
“You heard?”
“Everyone’s heard. They’re losing faith. If God cannot intervene when even his advocates are captured by the darkness, what will He allow next? If Erebus makes this very cathedral go up in flames, will God bring mercy to the unfortunate followers trapped inside? The ones who believe in him?”
“You’re not losing faith too, are you?”
“It’s very hard not to, Arin. This is the second time He’s betrayed my confidence in him. The first I cannot confide in you due to his very own teachings.”
Arin noticed that his friend’s white prayer robes were not on him, but folded neatly on the open space beside him. He did not plan on staying. He did not plan on wearing them again. “Why?”
“You’d hate me.”
“That’s impossible,” Arin responded instantly, though he couldn’t exactly place why he liked Brian so much. Maybe it was because the parts of himself he did show were so genuine, and he cared about people in such a respectful way. He was exceedingly helpful once someone asked, but otherwise he didn’t try to insert himself in situations where he was unnecessary. There were too many intrusive, impulsive people in this age, and Brian was the embodiment of heedfulness.
No answer. Arin figured that the only reason Brian was even talking to him now was because he needed to tell someone that he was leaving, and Arin just happened to be there. That, and the fact that Brian seemed to genuinely care about him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned the attack at all.
“God will spare me from the curse,” Arin insisted suddenly. “Maybe it’s been placed upon me so that He can take it away, and restore everyone’s faith. You’ll see.”
Brian chuckled, but it was a sad sound. The hand resting on the other side of his lap curled into a fist. “I won’t see. You’ll disappear just like the rest of them. You, the one good friend I’ve had in this world.”
“No I won’t. He’ll have mercy on us both-”
“No one has survived the attacks. No one. It would be unfair if you escaped by some miracle just because you’re the only friend that one pitiful pastor’s son has ever made.”
The words hit Arin like a knife; in astonishment because this was the most emotion his friend had ever displayed, and in realization that only a miracle would save him from his fate. He didn’t like it at all.
One of the large double doors of the cathedral swung open with a subtle creak. Thud. Mostly likely, whoever was here had observed Brian entering from a distance and followed him in.
“You didn’t lock the door?” Arin whispered.
“No. The townspeople are not in danger while we’re here.” He paused. “Or so I thought.”
The man appeared lost as he stumbled forward, with a leaning gait and wide eyes. The two boys stood to greet him, as was their duty, but found themselves lost as to how to act upon noticing the way the man’s mouth hung open grotesquely and how his overly pale skin was covered in sores. Did he have a sickness? Was it contagious?
A low, brutish moan echoed throughout the hall. His empty, diminutive black eyes were glazed over momentarily by a flash of blood red. It only lasted a second. This was no sickness. This was the plague.
Arin sprung into action immediately. There was subtle panic behind his movements, and with it, power that was not ordinarily his. “He’s possessed! Get out of here!” he shouted, lurching forward to push Brian out of the way. His own frail body was left instead in the center of the aisle, completely vulnerable.
There was no time to think before two bony, blistered arms clamped around his waist and exerted a pressure that threatened to break his ribs. The creature was too strong to be human. Not anymore.
“Get...g-get out of here...” he choked out, clawing helplessly at the wrists that bound him. His head leaned forward, a thick black shroud of waves blocking his field of vision and making everything seem dark for a moment. His head ached with the memory...
As the pressure loosened, he heard a hideous moan that at first he thought was his own, and assumed that he was dead or dying. Then he looked up to see his friend’s figure standing close to him, slowly coming into focus. The cursed man had fallen to the ground, and Brian was holding the wooden end piece of a pew in two hands like a weapon. He dropped the splintering block of wood on top of the creature and it grunted, but didn’t move.
“Gee, I knew this place was old, but...” Arin coughed, probing his fingers up each side of his ribs to check for damage. They ached, but nothing was broken. “I didn’t know we needed repairs that bad.”
Gingerly, he lifted the back of the creature’s shirt to reveal a series of seven perfectly jagged scars down the center of his back.
“You won’t become like that. He’s an unlucky one,” Brian muttered, almost as if he’d read Arin’s mind. It did little to help the sick feeling in Arin’s stomach.
The lights went out in the chapel. Every candle and chandelier extinguished. Pitch black. Too much like the first night. The first time... Arin trembled, hugging his arms close to him as the room turned cold. He felt two other arms around him and was about to panic again when he realized that they were mortal arms.
“No. I’m already cursed,” he breathed, lamenting, into Brian’s shoulder. “You still had your whole life ahead of you...”
“It’s o-”
That comforting voice cut off mid-syllable and the body it belonged to was gone as if he’d never even been there. Arin choked and then gasped for air, his body going into shock. He was alone now, all alone again. Had Brian...?
“The sinner can keep his life. Sinners taste bitter.”
The darkness. Alone with darkness. Arin felt its feathery touch glide along his arm, pushing the sleeve of his white robe up to his shoulder. The contact shifted to his cheek again, and his sleeve fell.
“Unlike you, young one. Dripping in innocence. Delectable innocence.”
Laughter filled the heavy air, echoing off of endless stone walls and stained glass windows that were just beginning to reflect the early morning light. This was timed perfectly. The darkness wanted to be seen.
Arin wanted to vomit.
The next message came as a whisper in Arin’s ear that sounded all too human. “I’ll drink you up...”
There was a hazy shimmer of blue before his eyes, bright ocean blue. Two shimmering orbs and an insidious grin. He felt a searing itch slice across his back; imagined a fingernail cutting through hot wax. His body convulsed and collapsed into the arms of darkness, only they felt much too tangible to be composed of anything less than flesh and blood.
Author: pimprevster
Rating: PG
Summary: A plague has befallen the city. One jagged scar torn across Arin's back marks him for death. Ten attacks, ten lines, and he will never be seen again. The strange part is that the assaulting darkness seems all too human.
Disclaimer: Not real. Never happened, I don't know or own anything here.
Notes: Constructive criticism makes me very happy.
Prologue
The scar on his back would never heal. It was a straight horizontal slash in dead-center of his torso, already closed but bulging slightly with a shimmer of bloody ooze where the laceration had been made. If you looked closely enough, the cut was a perfect jagged pattern. No human tool could have done that to soft human skin. It was like craft scissors to paper.
He was lucky to be alive, they told him. Many victims couldn’t handle the attacks, either physically or mentally, but Arin’s wits were fully intact and his body healthy enough to withstand the stress. Only now he had the permanent mark of Erebus upon his back, which set his fate.
Nine more attacks. On the tenth, he would disappear off the face of the planet.
Arin seated himself on the backmost pew of the chapel, hands held together in silent prayer. It was well before service hours, but he had been unable to sleep. As a priest he could access the chapel anytime he wanted.
In the past, anyone could access it anytime they wanted. It had been open for prayer twenty-four hours a day. Then one of the attacks took place inside the holy castle itself, on a lone worshipper, and it had been closed during night time ever since. That attack was very well the church’s greatest shame.
When he unclasped his fingers and raised his head, another priest was sitting beside him. The other young one with shoulder-length dark hair and an aura that screamed enigma. He was intimidating at first, and sometimes Arin thought that the only reason he had been able to join the clergy was because his father was the head of it, but those who spoke to him found that he was much friendlier than he appeared.
“You’re at risk here, too, y’know,” Brian said. He sounded almost concerned. It was always hard to tell exactly what Brian was feeling; there weren’t many alterations in his tone of voice. “Just as much as the townspeople. Especially after what happened two nights ago.”
“You heard?”
“Everyone’s heard. They’re losing faith. If God cannot intervene when even his advocates are captured by the darkness, what will He allow next? If Erebus makes this very cathedral go up in flames, will God bring mercy to the unfortunate followers trapped inside? The ones who believe in him?”
“You’re not losing faith too, are you?”
“It’s very hard not to, Arin. This is the second time He’s betrayed my confidence in him. The first I cannot confide in you due to his very own teachings.”
Arin noticed that his friend’s white prayer robes were not on him, but folded neatly on the open space beside him. He did not plan on staying. He did not plan on wearing them again. “Why?”
“You’d hate me.”
“That’s impossible,” Arin responded instantly, though he couldn’t exactly place why he liked Brian so much. Maybe it was because the parts of himself he did show were so genuine, and he cared about people in such a respectful way. He was exceedingly helpful once someone asked, but otherwise he didn’t try to insert himself in situations where he was unnecessary. There were too many intrusive, impulsive people in this age, and Brian was the embodiment of heedfulness.
No answer. Arin figured that the only reason Brian was even talking to him now was because he needed to tell someone that he was leaving, and Arin just happened to be there. That, and the fact that Brian seemed to genuinely care about him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned the attack at all.
“God will spare me from the curse,” Arin insisted suddenly. “Maybe it’s been placed upon me so that He can take it away, and restore everyone’s faith. You’ll see.”
Brian chuckled, but it was a sad sound. The hand resting on the other side of his lap curled into a fist. “I won’t see. You’ll disappear just like the rest of them. You, the one good friend I’ve had in this world.”
“No I won’t. He’ll have mercy on us both-”
“No one has survived the attacks. No one. It would be unfair if you escaped by some miracle just because you’re the only friend that one pitiful pastor’s son has ever made.”
The words hit Arin like a knife; in astonishment because this was the most emotion his friend had ever displayed, and in realization that only a miracle would save him from his fate. He didn’t like it at all.
One of the large double doors of the cathedral swung open with a subtle creak. Thud. Mostly likely, whoever was here had observed Brian entering from a distance and followed him in.
“You didn’t lock the door?” Arin whispered.
“No. The townspeople are not in danger while we’re here.” He paused. “Or so I thought.”
The man appeared lost as he stumbled forward, with a leaning gait and wide eyes. The two boys stood to greet him, as was their duty, but found themselves lost as to how to act upon noticing the way the man’s mouth hung open grotesquely and how his overly pale skin was covered in sores. Did he have a sickness? Was it contagious?
A low, brutish moan echoed throughout the hall. His empty, diminutive black eyes were glazed over momentarily by a flash of blood red. It only lasted a second. This was no sickness. This was the plague.
Arin sprung into action immediately. There was subtle panic behind his movements, and with it, power that was not ordinarily his. “He’s possessed! Get out of here!” he shouted, lurching forward to push Brian out of the way. His own frail body was left instead in the center of the aisle, completely vulnerable.
There was no time to think before two bony, blistered arms clamped around his waist and exerted a pressure that threatened to break his ribs. The creature was too strong to be human. Not anymore.
“Get...g-get out of here...” he choked out, clawing helplessly at the wrists that bound him. His head leaned forward, a thick black shroud of waves blocking his field of vision and making everything seem dark for a moment. His head ached with the memory...
As the pressure loosened, he heard a hideous moan that at first he thought was his own, and assumed that he was dead or dying. Then he looked up to see his friend’s figure standing close to him, slowly coming into focus. The cursed man had fallen to the ground, and Brian was holding the wooden end piece of a pew in two hands like a weapon. He dropped the splintering block of wood on top of the creature and it grunted, but didn’t move.
“Gee, I knew this place was old, but...” Arin coughed, probing his fingers up each side of his ribs to check for damage. They ached, but nothing was broken. “I didn’t know we needed repairs that bad.”
Gingerly, he lifted the back of the creature’s shirt to reveal a series of seven perfectly jagged scars down the center of his back.
“You won’t become like that. He’s an unlucky one,” Brian muttered, almost as if he’d read Arin’s mind. It did little to help the sick feeling in Arin’s stomach.
The lights went out in the chapel. Every candle and chandelier extinguished. Pitch black. Too much like the first night. The first time... Arin trembled, hugging his arms close to him as the room turned cold. He felt two other arms around him and was about to panic again when he realized that they were mortal arms.
“No. I’m already cursed,” he breathed, lamenting, into Brian’s shoulder. “You still had your whole life ahead of you...”
“It’s o-”
That comforting voice cut off mid-syllable and the body it belonged to was gone as if he’d never even been there. Arin choked and then gasped for air, his body going into shock. He was alone now, all alone again. Had Brian...?
“The sinner can keep his life. Sinners taste bitter.”
The darkness. Alone with darkness. Arin felt its feathery touch glide along his arm, pushing the sleeve of his white robe up to his shoulder. The contact shifted to his cheek again, and his sleeve fell.
“Unlike you, young one. Dripping in innocence. Delectable innocence.”
Laughter filled the heavy air, echoing off of endless stone walls and stained glass windows that were just beginning to reflect the early morning light. This was timed perfectly. The darkness wanted to be seen.
Arin wanted to vomit.
The next message came as a whisper in Arin’s ear that sounded all too human. “I’ll drink you up...”
There was a hazy shimmer of blue before his eyes, bright ocean blue. Two shimmering orbs and an insidious grin. He felt a searing itch slice across his back; imagined a fingernail cutting through hot wax. His body convulsed and collapsed into the arms of darkness, only they felt much too tangible to be composed of anything less than flesh and blood.