Still working on finals, two days and counting!!!!
But that's not going to stop me giving you something to kick of your weekend. Another piece of written work from the folder of random crap sitting on my desktop.
Cries of endless battles rang out in the ghost of memories, filling the empty stone stadium with an ominous air. This was where it would happen. A grand battle waged between creatures, humans, demons, and in the end a victor. A glimpse of what the next generations of the mortal would have in store, it was a place were time, life, and even death stood still, and they called it holy. Placed high above the mortal world carved by angels, blessed by gods, and christened in blood..
The stone carvings of angelic maidens bathed in nothing but their natural skin, towering high above a massive circular dirt pit littered with rumble. How many lives have those maidens taken to the beyond? How many fallen souls were transported by death's hand under their watch?
I was sure it was countless. Some infinite number since the first creation of life in the world, maybe even far beyond that, it was hard to tell. The old familiar stones trembled under my feet. Even the aged magic that guarded this most sacred of lands knew of my past deeds. A life bathed in horrors that only the imagination of a seasoned teller could capture. Orange sun light bathed my skin in a golden glow, welcoming the warmth it was a delightful improvement over the cold shadows I had grown so accustom to.
“Why are you here?” the small boyish voice of an old foe asked from behind me.
I had picked up his scent long before I heard him speak. Youth, summer wind, sweet lemon grass, and a naive air. There was only one person it could be. Ragnar.
“I was summoned,” I replied back, studying the wispy clouds that danced across the darkening sky. “Same as you. Though I do not understand why you were chosen.”
The boy was useless. I had fought him years ago, granted he had no doubt grown since then, still that naive childish air hung around him like a dark, damning cloud.
“The gods believe in me, and the mortal realm is mine to protect.” he growled. I forgot quick to anger, his death would be even swifter. “That is what I am here to do. Protect my world from things like you.”
“I wouldn't worry your mind with her.” a thick, smoothing whisper of a voice called from the shadows to my left. I knew that voice as well, and though I only now sensed him it was all to familiar.
“You will not make it pass the first round.” the voice mocked as a tall slender, yet slightly defined young man appeared from the shadows. Hair of raven black, sink pale white, and eyes of silver.
My red gaze settled on him as he looked beyond me Ragnar. Phant, the shadow of the dark realm, I had fought him many times, and even fought with him side by side on occasion. This would not be the case with the trails to come.
“Milady,” Phant said acknowledging me as he bowed, “so nice to be in your company once again.” Yes he was smooth as ever and still mocking me.
“Spare me Phant.” I brushed him off with my cold uncaring tone. Ragnar was not so easily pushed aside.
“What do you mean I won't last?!” he yelled finally stepping into the fading light. “My kin is more qualified to be in this test then any other.”
“Your kin is dead,” I reminded him folding my arms across my chest. “and you are nothing more then a faint echo of what they once were.”
A fiery rage started to radiant from his aura, but he was hardly a threat of any kind.
“Phant, why are you here?” I finally asked. It was odd for me to be here, but even more so for Phant. He was a shadow dweller and I a shadow master. In a tournament such as this only one creature, person, being from each realm was chosen. Two from the same was very rare, in the two hundred millennia I had been taking part in the tournament.
“Maybe you are being classified as something else this time?” was all Phant offered as he shrugged his shoulders.
It was a possibility, my classification of race was all over the darker realms.
“Well how do you classify something like you?” another male voice sounded from my left. A large, towering, muscular temple of a man laughed as he came closer. Long brown hair pulled back into a pony tail, with eyes of endless green. A smug smile plastered across his face, as his eyes traveled up and down my body.
“Lets see,” he started again stopping just to the side of me. His face scrunched up as if analyzing everything that went unseen about me. “Opsona elf, half vampire, part god, with a demonic aura. Oh and a shadow caster. Did I leave anything out?”
“On top of things as usual Asher.” I replied back hardly giving him a glance.
He leaned in closer, his demonic aura pushing outward to invade my space. A flash of dominance to show the others what he meant to claim. A futile show of power if I had ever witnessed one.
“How many others will there be?” Phant asked. I could sense the others appearing around the arena. Different auras from different classes of mortals, immortals, gods, dark creatures, light creatures, and everything that fell in between. A champion from every realm, and then I noticed something even more strange, or really disturbing was the term for it.
Turning, I headed into a dark hallway that lead out of the arena.
“Where are you wandering off too, Myst?” Asher asked.
“I'm leaving,” I answered honestly, even if it was insane. “I will not be part of this massacre.”
“What does she mean leaving?” I heard Ragnar ask as I walked off into the shadows.You didn't simply leave the tournament when you were chosen. It was near impossible to go against the high powers that established the battles to come. This was off though, this was not a tournament arranged for the entertainment of the heavens. Every person chosen to take place had something to gain by my death. or rather the annihilation of my immortal soul. This event was called for me.
Till Sunday people, Enjoy your weekend and go see GODZILLA!!