Blood And Stone

Chapter 30: The Cycle Begins

The wave of rage slammed into her chest like a fist, crushing her ribcage and forcing the air from her lungs in a loud huff. The oxygen evacuated the room, forcing War's eyes to snap open so quickly that the sound of it reverberated off of the walls and slithered down the hallway like a snake free of it's cage. The soft caress of Peace slid across her cheek, bringing her back to reality so suddenly that she toppled from her bed, landing with a loud slap on the cold marble floor. Her eyes searched the darkness, the scent of Peace's soft floral perfume lingered like a cloud around her head. War's hands slid over the floor, searching for any bit of warmth that would tell her where her sister had stood but, she felt nothing but the cold emptiness that woke her. The groan that escaped her lips hardly had a chance to form before she had pulled herself to her feet and propelled her through the maze of twisting halls to her sister's door. Throwing it open, she knew what she would find but it shocked her system all the same. The bed lay there, untouched, unwanted and empty.

 The scream that burst forth from her throat shook the halls, sending showers of dust falling from the already damaged ceiling as her agony came into existence. War felt the impending doom blossoming in her chest, spreading throughout her body like a tidal wave. Each wave made it that much harder to catch her breath, leaving her feeling as though she were drowning in a vast sea of emptiness. War was coming, the rage and hate boiling beneath the earth's crust, ready to destroy anything it could touch. The sorrow came rushing in after, spreading an ice cold shiver through her, leaving it's stain on her soul. Something had been done to anger a great many people in the mortal realm. The echoes of their pain rattled around inside her skull, lighting her brain with lightning. The pain became so intense that she gripped her ears, pulling at them as her fingers dug into the skin. The undeniable rush of souls soaring to the Ethereal Plains filled her stomach with a churning that could make even the great Kraken seasick.

A great many souls had been released and many more were plunged into the depths of despair but none were so damaged as Rissa the Bloodless. Every ounce of light that had been building within her had been snuffed out and discarded as nothing more than a simple pleasant thought on a peaceful day. Something had torn her heart from her chest, set it ablaze and then thrown it in her face with the greatest amount of disrespect possible. Despite everything she knew about Peace, the feeling in her gut told her that this pain had been caused by her hands. Something had pushed Peace so far as to betray her own beliefs, break her oath to be the deliverer of justice and happiness, and murder all of those innocent souls. She had to be distraught, breaking down at the very core of her being and War, had to know. With a swipe of her hand, the air before her shimmered and brought a link to the mortal realm, the image coming through, one that shattered every last ounce of self-restraint she possessed. 

Two small drops of blood sliding down a patch of dark-colored skin, leaving long red trails that stained the surface and crept into the soul. The rage filled tears that trailed down The Bloodless' cheeks were so hot that they left pink raised lines of agony in their wake. She had shattered, her will to see the good in the world had been snatched away and discarded as a simple passing fancy. Her steel gray eyes stared forward, glowing with hate and the reflection of the approaching village. Volker. Her long fingers twisted around the hilt of her sword, freeing it from it's prison. The blade shone in the light, it's thirst for blood dripping along its length, preparing it for its purpose. Behind her, the wolf pack of the Ulfheðnar thundered along, sorrow and anger whirling about their heads as though it were the only thought they could ever have formed.  

War waved her hand again, this time the image shifted to Lyric the Fair. Her light boots flitted along the soft earth of the forest, sending bits of dirt rising and falling back to their home as she dashed along. Her slender body slid between trees, jumped over fallen trunks, and floated through the air as if she were born to fly. Her brown eyes were set, staring at the horizon with a purpose that rivaled that of The Bloodless. The urgency that resided in the depths of her eyes sparked War's attention. Something had gone wrong in Sitharu. The Fair scouted ahead of the Sithaurian Guard, finding the tallest tree that she could and beginning to pull herself up its trunk. She slid along the rough bark as though she had never spent a moment of her life away from its hardened shield. Her muscled flexed beneath her pale skin as she rose, coming to rest on the highest branch that could hold her weight. She peered out across the woven canopy of tree branches to judge the distance to her destination. Volker.