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The Bane - Chapter TwoThe dark creatures carried the youth for what seemed an eternity, the hero passing through wakefulness and sleep as seamlessly as the change from day to night. The visions he endured through both consciousness and slumber were nonsensical. He was perpetually locked within a cycle of dreaming.
The clear, pure sky of the hero's high home mingled with the rusty horizon of this new world. The thick trunked trees of the forest with their young green leaves shriveled to twigs of their former selves. The soft, moist soil of the ground was replaced with dirt lacking in nutrients. The soft grass was traded for the hard shoulder of his captor. The chirping of birds was gone. The shuffling of feet was the only tune in his ears. Reality was blurred by his imagination.
As the group progressed through the landscape, the creatures talked freely. Their conversation was focused intently on their plans for the delicious being from the surface; of light.
"We should peel the flesh from its bones…"
The Bane - Chapter OneThe final battle that would define the past, present and future had ceased. Fate had sided with the hero of destiny; it was he who defended the surface from plunging into the gaping jaws of chaos. Demise, the Demon King was vanquished.
The realm of which the Demon King created for the final battle, once surging with electricity and power had vanished as if it had never existed. The charcoal clouds of the violent sky slowly shifted to ivory. Their wispy shapes no longer obscured the emerging azure from the dawning truth of victory. The liquid crystalline floor reflected the brightening sky with exactness, the border between above and below indistinguishable.
The Demon King, his robust figuring once exuding domination was battered, nearing collapse. He stood with what remaining power flowed through his veins, his massive shoulders hunched in stubborn defeat. The weight of his frame was supported only by his vicious blade., the spirit within still thirsting for blood. His darkened flesh w
Marionette"Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true."
Leon Joseph Cardinal Suenens
Of a time long past, in a country of humble size but of remarkable beauty dwelled the town of Caterina. This quaint town was off the beaten road, many miles away from the capital city. It dwelled in the lush countryside; where the tall emerald grass waved lazily in the wind and lilac and lavender perfumed the air as they admired their reflection in the crystal stream. Caterina was far from industrialization and the progress of new and upcoming technologies.
Though the intricate clock which resided in the town square called out the hour, its melodious chiming echoing over the cottages, cobblestone pathways and all the residents of the town, all time seemed to stand still; no change or significant event differentiating the habitual course of days. The baker had a fresh batch of bread each day and pretty milk maids and farmer's daughters strolled the cobbled streets. Espe
InfraredScreams echoed through the corridors of damp metal and concrete of the city. No longer was the city identified by a name. Deep and overwhelming turmoil was its sole identification. The sky was bleeding—pollution dripping over the moon's placid expression and assemblage of drowning stars. Bodies were strewn across the clammy ground, crimson liquid blending with the black oil. As others lay waiting for their final breaths and their heartbeats to fade, one soul continued to stumble through the lonely dark, her chance of survival diminishing. Panic was like a hand, encircling its vicious fingers around the weakened necks of its victims.
Her throat dry, lips chapped, the individual fought through the aching and bleak prospects her future offered. Running however would only prolong her life for a short time. Her once blonde hair was plastered with an inky sweat, the color lacking luster. Her amber eyes were wide, soaking in the blackness around her as they fidgeted in all directions. H
Requiem of SpiritThrough past and present, future sail,
A question of what time entails.
When morn’s great splendor fades to night,
Shall twilight hasten end, and plight?
While like a river’s ebb and flow,
Mortal frame will change and grow.
Yet, beneath the flesh and earthly bonds,
The soul exists and goes beyond.
Unbreakable as metal forged,
Strength of spirit, formed long before.
Set sail upon time’s stormy deep,
Into the night, the spirit keeps.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More