Due to the apparent dedication of some of my reviewers I have decided to update this next chapter into two parts. So that's why this chapter is so short.
Tortalls WILD GIRL - I would have written the rest of this chapter, but that would mean everybody would have to wait until probably next week. I'm going out of town this weekend, so I just broke this chapter in half. Hope that's good enough!
Narm's Boreas - See, I knew I was sick! The point of my last reply was to say that I am kind of taking the Roman/Greek version of religion for this story, but I apparently forgot. I'm pretending that the Black God's Realm is like their afterlife what with the Elysion Fields and the other place I can't think of right now for some reason. Sorry about that!
Arram slid out of bed. Even the light dancing across his bed-sheets felt different. It burned with a contained fire he had never before been able to sense. Slowly, he rocked onto his heels and locked his knees. He placed his hands flush with the rough, ink-stained surface of his desk. His head was pounding; black clouds swam across his vision and red wheals of flame curled through his mind. Tiny sparks of white light flickered and flared in the prevailing darkness, and with a sudden desperation, he threw himself into the darkness.
An odd sense of detachment slipped through his flesh as his consciousness slipped away into the somehow familiar black softness. Eerie shades of silver and copper and bronze dominated his world. It was something he knew but, strangely, had never felt. He turned slowly like a ponderous ship heading haltingly into unknown waters. He felt – distant. The breath left Arram in a whirlwind as he saw himself hunched, trembling over his work-worn desk with his dark hair falling in a veil over closed eyes. He was thrown back to reality where shapes were defined in shades that do not burn at the sight of himself.
He staggered away from the rough wood as though it had burned him. He was cold all over; his muscles ached from a strain he could not remember. Unconsciously, one long finger traced over the phantom like lines imprinted on his chest. When he analyzed the experience, it was not wholly unnatural. The feeling of detachment, of order was one he knew well. Meditation brought the same feeling as he slid into the cold grasp of his own mind. Therefore, it was not illogical to conclude that he had somehow slipped into meditation, but never before had he been capable of removing his consciousness from his corporeal body. It was disconcerting to say the least. Softly, the brand on his flesh warmed and flamed as his hand moved unknowingly into a different pattern.
He relaxed slowly as his thoughts swam into new and uncharted circles. Delicate lines swam and wavered before his eyes. Entranced, he watched as they slowly shifted into silver and bronze. The harsh lines of reality blurred into blinding metals. Against his better judgment, he relaxed. He let the sharp lights penetrate his body and mind; he let them sear into his soul and pierce through his spirit. Without knowing, Arram encompassed his magic. All the power the world could offer him seeped into channels previously dry and barren. Black waves dappled with tempting light flooded into him from all corners of the universe. This was the moment of truth. He would never be the same again.
This time, Arram gently slid from the world of silver and bronze back into his own body of flesh and blood. The world swam for a moment and his knees buckled. With all his weight pressed against one solitary wall of the quiet room, he inhaled sharply. His thoughts ran in a whirlwind he could not control until, the quiet rap of small knuckles against his thick door drew him back to attention. He knew that gentle, demanding tap. "Come in, Varice," he called, but his voice cracked unnaturally.
The golden figure danced into the still and silent room bringing with her light and sound. The shadows danced away from her and the air twined happily about her form. Arram looked upon her with a strange sadness. As much as he loved her, he could not hold onto her. Something had changed and this golden icon structured of light was no longer the representation of love and happiness she had once been.
His features softened as he looked at her smile formed of the whitest sun rays. Her eyes, the color of the spring sky, danced cheerfully, but then darkened with concern. "Arram, are you alright? Why are you over there, almost on the floor?"
He could see the white hot worry flashing in her gaze. "Nothing, love, it's nothing. I just, I think I had a dream. It, it was something new and strange. Love, I think it changed me." Confusion creased his brow and his hand began to move to the bridge of his nose.
Varice knew better than to let him begin to pull the bridge of his nose; if he began, a lecture of theories and probabilities laced with facts and history no mortal was capable of paying attention to. "Arram, sweet, come here. We can go to the gardens today, or out to the park for a picnic. We have not had time to ourselves in such a long time," she smiled enchantingly.
"No, Varice," he muttered. His dark eyes flashed in confusion, and he looked into her eyes. Never before had he refused her while looking into her eyes. "Something has happened that I must investigate. I believe I have learned something new without ever realizing." He lurched to his feet in a strangely graceful, awkward movement. "I must go," he concluded as he shrugged off his wrinkled bed-clothes and into a more presentable outfit. He bent and kissed Varice's cheek as he left, but he did look back. Nor did he offer to bring her with him.
As the sunlight began to burn gold, the young emperor leaned against his balcony ledge. A strange chill prickled along his flesh, but he ignored it. He was far more interested in the activities happening beneath him in the royal menagerie. Someday, he thought absently as he looked upon the small cages, he would have to improve the grandness of his menagerie; it was far too small and empty, almost derelict in its existence. Ozorne turned his attention once more to the dark shape standing openly in a pool of light before an empty cage. The tall figure seemed to waver a moment before black light littered with tiny white stars flashed from his form.
So, Arram Draper had finally realized his potential. Ozorne's lip curled away from his teeth in a gruesome sneer. There would be no controlling the blossoming mage now that he knew he was worth something. Hatred grew in the cold heart of the emperor as he looked upon his closest, dearest friend. This was a hatred only born of love. After all, one cannot truly hate those they have never once been a part of. Love is the most powerful doorway into the minds and hearts of people; whether the door opens for good or bad, no one can tell.
Ozorne watched as Arram bent and leaned against the cold iron bars of the desolate cage. One hand rested against his face, the other faced him. It seemed as though he was attempting to memorize every contour of his hand, as though this appendage was not his own. Suddenly, black fire spread around his hand and true fire sprang from the earth before his feet, but disappeared at a thought leaving not a single burn in its wake. Control like this was not mastered over night! It was impossible! And Ozorne hated him for it. Every move made by his friend enraged him. It forced him to see the power coiled in the heart of his soft and once malleable friend. Only a fool would not notice the change in Arram's demeanor. It flashed in the turn of a hand; burned in the blink of an eye. Arram was no longer himself.
Ozorne threw himself from the white curve supporting his weight as he observed his friend's transformation. Anger cloaked him as he spun into the relative darkness of his chambers. So, Arram thought he could leave him, did he? Thought he could become independent and great? Thought he would mean something to someone? This was that girl's fault. That stranger Arram had taken into his heart but not his bed. She had done something and destroyed his friend. Perhaps it was time to pay her a visit before she rotted in his unyielding dungeons.
The air whistled indignantly at his hurried passage. He was disturbing the peace, the solitude of these desolate halls. He was a trespasser in his own home. Quickly the silence oozed once more into its customary place and swallowed up all evidence of his existence. Only his ringing footsteps stood as a testament of his passage.
The darkness swam away from his hand as he brushed it away as though it was nothing more than old spider's webs. The cold wall buckled beneath his emerald touch and its brutal truth blared in the hard, green light cupped in his other hand. Prison bars grinned manically up at the young emperor, and he wrapped manicured hands around the cold bars. They slid away from their cold moors as he pushed them aside; his prize lay behind them, encased behind yet another door. This impediment slid away too, and he looked upon the small figure curled at the foot of the dilapidated mattress.
As I said, this is just part one. I will update as soon as possible!