Golden Darkness

In Which There is Another Story Told

           Micah Salvator stood high on a ladder, reaching high up to get a gun above the many, many, cabinets of the kitchen in the duke's mansion. Micah had grown up there from the time she was nearly five, still trying to forget some unpleasant memories from before it. This duke however, was famous for hiring assassins. He had employed almost 13 of them by the time she'd come to live there. The duke usually disliked children, however the complete humbleness of the child had struck him, leading him to adopt and care for her.

He lived a healthy solitary life, most of the time shut away in his tall turret at the top of the mansion. The duke, while he liked the child, hardly spent any time to raise her and left her education in the hands of some very, very rash and unpredictable assassins. Her brown hair was tied up like normal and her green eyes surveyed the scene at the top of the dusty cabinets. Bottles, dishes, napkins and more were scattered at the top, making an utter mess.

"Goodness" she breathed lowly, taking the cloth she held and neatly swiping up the nearby gun. One of the younger assassins, Thea had decided to juggle guns earlier, landing on high up on top of the cabinets. Since Micah helped out the sweet cook daily, she'd taken it upon herself to go grab the gun. Even though it'd been up there for such a short time, a layer of dust was already resting on it's polished brass surface. Her instinctive cleaning urge acted up and she wiped it clean quickly, holding it up to her nose, studying the way the sunlight eeking from the velvet curtains nearby hit it. She held in a breath for a moment, not wanting to put it down before it was snatched cleanly away.

"I'll take that" came a loud chuckle as Thea danced around Micah, waving the gun around. "What's with you? You seemed totally entranced by it! Don't tell me... you finally want to become an assassin?" Thea's loud giggles echoed around the halls creepily, making Micah gulp. "Well, I'm glad you got your gun back Thea, now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to help Cook Janice make dinner." Thea looked at Micah as she left, a snarl on her face. "Typical Micah, always so proper and humble." She scoffed, ripping a side the red velvet curtain. Outside it was murky, however small bits of sunshine managed to make it by. It seemed to always be dark and gloomy outside recently, today was rare.

Micah walked through all the stacks of pots and pans, humming her favorite tune as she went, dusting as she went. The cook was always somewhere in this vast maze. As she went however, the sun got dimmer and a feeling was growing deep inside her. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right at all. Her eyebrows furrowed and she traveled deeper among the kitchen pots and such. She rounded a corner and where usually there;d be an opening, there were more pots than ever stacked to block her path neatly. "Cook Janice?" She called warily, trying to yank off the layers of tall pots. However they were too tall and too heavy.

In a moment she decided what she must do and so "Bam!" she slammed into the pile of pots with her elbow, wincing but biting her lip to ignore it. The pots rattled, but didn't move very far. Another slam and they rocked more, some falling to the ground. From a running start, she was able to knock down a column, her ears humming as they crashed to the ground. Her hand flew to her mouth as she saw a bloody cloth cover the cooks normal rocking chair. Artillery was strewn everywhere, as if they didn't care about being caught or not. As Micah got closer, her head spinning from the smell of the blood, she noticed the boxes of explosives near her chair. A dim light was in the corner of the rooms, seeming as though they'd been traveling throughout most of the house to get into the kitchen. It was a trap. And she had to get out.

A strangled cry came from her mouth as she grabbed a small gun nearby and bolted out to the other door heading out of the kitchen. As she'd suspected, it was locked. A exasperated sigh came out of her mouth as she heard the fizzling of the fire come closer, and her heartbeat thumped loud like the ticking of a clock. She quickly pocketed her gun, and grabbed the nearest to right size for an axe around the cook's rocking chair and held it steady. Micah got closer to the door and slammed the lock with all her might.

At first it only rattled, but the second time it gave way, unevenly swinging open a fraction. Her eyes wide and her mouth dry she sped out, kicking it closed. This mansion would blow up soon, and she had no idea how she'd contact the duke. But what if he was already dead? What if he'd escaped? She had no clue, yet she pressed on, up those red velvet steps and wondering why there was no assassin in sight. Once she got to his study door she pressed a hand to her forehead, recognizing how stupid she'd been. Thea's gun, spattered in blood laid across the threshold, making Micha's breath hitch on her throat. That was it, she had to get out, save herself, because she couldn't save anyone anymore. The people who'd brought her up were as selfish and vain as any other. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, no time to brush them away as she ran back down to the ground floor, for once utterly fearing for her life. As soon as she reached the last door, she practically flung herself out of the house and onto the grass. Her face hit the dirt, sending a jolt of pain up her neck when she crashed. But she still didn't mind. She was out of the house, yet still in the range of fire. Hastily shoving back the brown hair that had become undone in the past few minutes she sped on. Jumping over the logs and mini streams in the forest ahead. Micah could've taken the normal road, except she figured she'd run into the assassins that had overrun the mansion and destroyed it. More tears came streaming down her cheeks when she turned at the loud sound behind her. Great roaring flames came jolting up into the slowly darkening skies, ash raining down around her. She closed her eyes, breathing slow. In a few moments, everything she knew, loved and trusted was gone. All gone.

During this time, a man hide from the darkening sky like it was a deadly poison. His violet eyes observing the outside world daily, but kept himself hidden away. This man had plans, this man had ideas, this man had no morals to speak of, and knew... he was absolutely deadly. What evil plans he had for the likes of man is a tale for another day.