Written for:
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Ekrizdis - Write about Ekrizdis, the fortress of Azkaban and what he did there.
If You Dare Challenge: 271. Bounty
200 Characters in 200 Days: Ekrizdis
Gringotts Prompt Bank: Prepositions: Aboard. Friends Vocab: Mate. Nautical Prompts: Aboard, Crew, Bearing, Boat, Vessel. Weather Prompts: Gale. Emotions: Powerless.
Words: 492
Ekrizdis
A lone candle flickered in the window of the highest tower, barely visible from the rocky ground, so far beneath its light.
A salty gale crashed against the rocky outcrops and the thick stone walls with an unearthly moan, the cries of an old, dying siren, luring inquisitive minds with its sorrow. The wind carried on, past the outcrops, onto the island, dark and deadly, that the seabirds feared to even fly over.
Dark shadows floated around the walls, cloaks so black they were dark against the night's sky, disturbing the stale and stagnant air around the place with a trail of desperation.
Of all the happiness in the world, none of it had the strength to penetrate this cursed place; this fortress of fear; this sentinel of sorrow.
The fishermen aboard their ship saw it all. They heard the moans and groans of the fortress, as if they were the calls of dying men, over the splashing of their own oars. They saw the hazards of a hundred jagged rocks, rising up from the sea like razor blades, like butcher's knives, surrounding the island where, moments ago, there had been only sea.
Some of the sea-battered men told themselves it was only an illusion, a waking dream. Hallucinations had been known to happen at sea. But they looked to the faces of their mates, seeing the same repulsive wonder they had reflected in the sunken eyes, and knew it was more than a dream.
All the same, their course never changed. Their eyes told them the island would bring nothing but death and misery; their hearts raced as their minds were lost to a blind panic, but their muscles would not stop, bound by a memory of the repetitive motion, like the ghosts of Roman soldiers who could still be seen guarding a crumbling tower on a great wall, staring into the Northerly distance. These men were ghosts already, bound to serve a deity they did not know yet, or understand, bound to their own livelihoods, pulling the oars back, pushing them forward, sailing on.
A lone figure stood in the window of the tallest tower illuminated by a single taper. A great staff was in his right hand, twirled and gnarled into a fine point at the bottom. It was this end he held out of the window, pointing down to the boat as he muttered away in some strange language. The figure was cloaked and hooded; nothing could be seen of his face but his ghastly smile. His bounty was only death and destruction.
The crew watched in terror as the jagged rock grew ever nearer, unable to change their bearings. The hull hit the rock first; the men heard the groaning and splintering. The tear ran up to the bow of the ship, splitting the vessel into two halves around the rock. When the water began to rise, the men could do nothing but watch, wait and die.