(The lyrics are from Eagle's Witchy Woman. I am currently ignoring the fact
Mozenrath is a male, for the sake of the lyrics that fit so perfectly. I
dedicate this chapter to little Miss Destane sympathizer. lol. You know who
you are. )
Darkness can be many things.
The darkness in the Citadel had many personalities.
It served as a service, proving to intimidate and impose a way of saying
what needed be said.
It acted as a curtain, a hiding place so long ago for a prince throw into
darkness and having to adapt.
And sometimes, it served only to distort reality.
Shadows do not move, shadows aren't alive, and shadows certainly don't pose
a threat to someone who was very real indeed, a dark eyed deer in a world he
was forced into.
But shadows do have tendrils, and they do reach out them, a ghosted touch
from their cackling skirt along the walls
But darkness can also impregnated with a heavy touch, not for the weak of
moderating, as you'll spend your whole sanity's efforts on discovering what
it contains.
The darkness that wrapped almost territorially around the Lord Of Black
Sands' bedroom was thick with that very tension, the burden of the darkness'
richness tormenting and reliving in the pale man's head as he tossed, raven
curls refusing to give up their purchase on his sweaty face.
Dreaming can be many things………
.
Destane knelt down next to his apprentice, brushing a stray curl from a
battered face still twisted with the echoes of pain.
He let a fond smile grace his face, so different from the black morning's
predecessor, where he embraced the urged of a man, instead of reveling in
the joys of a kid.
"Oh, but little kitten, I am enamored with you", Destane said, humming
pleasantly at the poetry of his own sentiments.
"Raven hair and ruby lips
sparks fly from her finger tips
Echoed voices in the night
she's a restless spirit on an endless flight'
He let his gaze wander possessively over the still sleeping boy, curled
instinctively into himself, rearranged nicely into the endearing kitten
Destane was fascinated by.
On retrospect, he hadn't meant to hurt him, he didn't like to as much as he
was entertained by it.
He wondered why Mozenrath wasn't happy here.
He picked him up and proceeded to walk down to his apprentice's bedroom,
plopping him down amusedly.
Mozenrath started up with a gasp, then a moan as newly inflicted wounds
demanded his attention, and if he had any energy left, his powers would have
sprung to life around him.
But the light of his magic, blue flames, still flickered in his eyes as he
turned to Destane, alit with a mixture of grief and betrayal and rage.
There it is!
There was the light that was missing!
"Wooo hooo witchy woman, see how
high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman she got
the moon in her eye"
Mozenrath looked away, an angry blush burning across his cheekbones.
No tears?
He noticed the strange off coloring that ran in pale lines from swollen
eyes.
He must have cried himself out.
"Oh but the emotions I can enlist from you little kitten…" Destane said,
rocking on his heels, proud in an outlandishly innocent manner.
Fear.
Hate.
"I've seen them all".
Mozenrath spun on his heel from where he was limping to the bathroom to
wash, face aflame and looking intent on chewing Destane out, ready to fly
into a infamous rant, patented by his mother, renowned for hers.
"Oh don't be ashamed little kitten," Destane say offhandedly, so flippant
that it was amazing the effect it had on the sorcerer.
"She held me spellbound in the night
dancing shadows and firelight"
Mozenrath's face darkened in fury, a single tear escaping before he uttered
two one single words, then slamming the door of the washroom behind him.
Destane laughed.
"Crazy laughter in another
room and she drove herself to madness
with a silver spoon
woo hoo witchy woman see how high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye"
Destane's ears perked as he heard the tell tale sound of his doors being
opened, and his guards only bent for one other's command.
Mirage.
With an offhand flick at the closed door emanating the sound of water could
be heard, he turned to go meet his visitor.
He found the cat incarnate changed even without her coming into focus.
She seemed…
Dead.
Disenchanted.
Working on instinct alone.
"Mirage", he said, nodding in her direction, bowing with a flourish.
She inclined her head brusquely, and dived straight in.
"Where's my son?"
"I'm afraid he's indisposed at the moment, sick I'm afraid. I'm letting him
sleep in", Destane said in silken tones.
Mirage looked deflated for a moment, then sighed,
"Its just as well, he's progressing well I hope?".
Destane grinned in an equally feline manner.
"Indeed, just the other day…"
Mozenrath slid down the wall, letting his tears smooth the way.
He couldn't wash the feeling away.
The dirt was under his skin, an engraving of his touch.
He had scrubbed his skin raw, but the feeling of violation stayed.
He couldn't even face himself in the mirror.
He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest, letting it trickle without care.
He had looked up for a moment, to see.
It couldn't have been him, but he had to see. It was someone else's
degradation, not his. It was another that was shamed, someone else's blood
spilt, someone else's body used.
Not his.
But his reflection betrayed him. It stared back; He was disgusted with it.
With an anguished cry, grieved and enraged he slammed his fist into the
glass, shattering his doppelganger's broken self.
The blood that resulted, the glittering shards of glass that danced in the
light strewn across the floor calmed him for a moment.
And then the dam broke.
Every sob was painful, every cry a burden.
But there was a pain greater than his hand or aches and wounds internal.
It started in his chest and spread until it became harder to breathe.
He had been robbed, the gravity of the situation not escaping him.
"Well I know you want a lover,
let me tell your brother, she's been sleeping
in the Devil's bed."
"Ahhmal, I'm sorry." He muttered to himself.
He had been robbed of something that was only meant to be shared between
they two.
He was saving himself!
"It wasn't meant to be you." Mozenrath felt nothing but raw rage at his
master.
But the feeling of shame and self-disgust burrowed even deeper, it festered
in him with each breath.
As if hearing his thoughts, he heard Destane laugh from another room, most
likely the throne room from the way it echoed.
Mozenrath grimaced, raising his hands to cover his ears, that is, until he
heard a female voice, a very familiar female voice.
"Mother?"
He heard it again, Mirage's signature voice, a half purring, half growling
sound that he had grown up with.
Mozenrath never fancied himself an overly emotional person, but at that
moment, nothing was more relieving, nothing was more urgent than seeing his
mother Mirage.
He went to rise, his face contorting at the pain it caused in that simple
movement, and turned the doorknob.
It didn't budge.
He tried again, twisting now almost desperately.
It was locked from the outside.
He wrenched at it until his hand throbbed, the faint sound of his mother and
Destane still being heard.
He stepped back as he heard the sound fade,
She was leaving!
He summoned up, if only by the power of desperation, a blast and hurled it
at the door.
When the smoke cleared,
Not even a scratch was on it.
His eyes flashed, the constricting feeling of panic gripping his chest now.
Blast after blast after blast was thrown at the door, everything Mozenrath
had left being used to break it down, to get free.
Nothing.
In the momentary silence, he heard Destane's cavalier laugh, echoed by the
velvet of his mother's.
She couldn't leave!
Not yet!
Why were they laughing?!?!?
He yelled almost in an unhinged manner, hoping beyond hope that they would
hear him as he threw what remained of his energy at the door, finally having
to resort to physical measures. He rammed the door with his shoulder; each
hit a jar to his injuries that screamed in protest.
"Mother!"
SLAM
"Destane let me out!"
SLAM
"MOTHER!!! I'M IN HERE!"
SLAM
'LET ME OUT!"
"And there's some rumors going round
someone's underground"
Destane smiled, hearing the faint thumps and crashes that only someone who
had been in the Citadel long enough to train their ears against the sound
illusions could hear.
He had regaled Mirage with tales and recounts of Mozenrath's accomplishments
and doings, and, as she grew comfortable, her company almost felt like a
social call.
He nodded and remarked when necessary as conversation grew casual, and at
last, as the Citadel grew dark, even at the rare occurrence of a window,
Mirage rose, Destane escorting her out in a gentleman's manner.
She turned one last time before the doors swung close, Destane pausing to
tell the guards to hold it open, the night wind stale and whipping about
them, a inkling of her old worry coming back.
"Mozenrath, tell him, tell him….", she searched for the words, then whatever
inspired her to say them died as she turned away.
"Tell him well done".
Destane nodded and watched as she disappeared, her face turned away as the
green light surrounded her red dressed self.
He hummed as he walked along the corridors, brow furrowing as he heard no
noise coming from the locked bathroom.
He opened it with the simplest flick of the wrist, his spell breaking before
him, and swung the door open to reveal Mozenrath, kneeling at the door,
closed and defeated fist still hanging on the frame, he was covered in wood
dust, and as Destane inspected the inside of the door, for good reason as
Mozenrath's efforts had almost broke the door, but not the spell, so the
indentions and splinters, and the occasional nail marks did not help.
He noted that his silent apprentice would not raise his head until he lifted
his chin with his hand to reveal a tear streaked face, though dead from the
inside.
"Mom says hi", he said with a grin.
Months later, Destane watched as an ever-silent little kitten padded up to
him, head bowed, and he could tell something was on his mind.
"Needed something?", he asked with a smile that never ceased to leave his
face.
The quiet reply was quite different from the loud, rebellious, demandings
and ways of the prince that had come to his Citadel long ago.
"Could we, could you master, continue on our lessons on teleportation?"
Destane's grin grew, he knew what Mozenrath was at, he knew that although
his manner seemed broken, that clever little mind was still looking and
working on escape, despite his fevered pursuit of finishing his training.
But why not indulge? His apprentice can figure out on his own the barrier
even extends to teleportation; he wouldn't get away in that respect.
He drew his pupil to him, the title so limiting to all they had become to
one another.
Mozenrath didn't resist nor fight, though he could hear the prince's jaw
clenching, his fists balling at his side."She can rock you in the nighttime
'til your skin turns red"
He may not enjoy Destane's affections, but the will to fight had died too
many times to count. He surrendered to Destane whenever the fancy struck his
master, too tainted from the inside to care anymore.
Destane hummed into Mozenrath's ear."Why not?"
"woo hoo witchy woman
see how high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman
she got the moon in her eye"
That night, like so many others, sparks flew around them as Mozenrath's
powers refused so wrong ministrations, while Mozenrath had white flagged
long ago.
Destane didn't mind, he thought it beautiful.
"woo hoo witchy woman
see how high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman
she got the moon in her eye"
Dean