In The Dark Of Night

Chapter Twenty Nine - Dark Night

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dark Night

 Abandon hope, all ye who enter here

~Dante's Inferno, Canto III: The Gate Of Hell

The sky was gorgeous. 

Dots of twinkling, pure white against an inky blackness that ran like water across the palate, revealing nothing and coating the area below in a nothingness that was almost serene. 

The forest, seemingly endless, ran on and on, into the darkness, kissing the horizon with its treetops and spreading its arms over the damp, wet earth. 

Right in the centre, invisible to the human eye, a flat-topped mansion sprawled over a large expanse, its balcony-enclosed roof open to the darkened sky above, and the trap-door leading to it propped open as something dark and black slithered out of it. 

It crawled along the deck of the roof, its loose tiles rattling as it moved, until it froze and suddenly reared up, throwing its head back, black ink spattering against the tiles as it stretched out from itself, forming arms and legs and a mouth that howled up at the moon. 

Slowly, the blackness dripped away, forming a pool of emptiness at its feet. 

Beneath was a grey-skinned male, chest heaving and lips parted as he blinked his large, round pupils, staring almost blankly about the rooftop. 

His eyes fell on the centre of it all - a medieval set-up of five high-backed, stone chairs, set up at the points of the Star of David, and at their middle, a stone tablet that held two jars; one of a thick, dark red substance and the other of a bubbling black goo. 

On the wind, he could hear a babe's babbling, cooing up at the sky - a sound that was so innocent and kind, but fearful all at once. 

He howled again - the sound blending with the child's cries.

"The tablet, M'horden." 

The howling stopped. 

The grey man turned and came face-to-face with the Angel. The one that had pulled him from his own, personal Hell and given him purpose again... meaning.

To this blond-haired, ethereal male; he owed every debt. 

"As you say, Walker." He inclined his head, paled white hair falling into his face. 

Slowly, he made his way to the tablet with the blood and the darkness, his knees trembled and his ankles snapped - he still was not used to this humanoid figurine. 

It must have been taking him too long, because the Walker strode over to him, hooking his hand beneath his arm and pulling him almost aggressively towards the stone table. 

"Thank you." He said anyway, when the Walker pulled away. 

His fingers grazed the top of the table - it felt cold to the touch, almost freezing. 

He welcomed it. 

Slowly, he pulled himself up and onto the flat surface, resting his back against it and breathing deeply as he swung his almost lame legs up after it. His eyes ran like water over the sky. 

It was a masterpiece in of itself. 

And, him knowing what was beyond it, he felt like it was even more amazing. 

It had been so long since he'd seen hope like this - been so long since he'd seen beauty. 

How fitting that it would end tonight.