"She was working long into the night, by morning we found her like this." the low ranking Krimzon Guard spoke nervously glancing at the body in the back of the dark room, almost worried that the dead girl would rise up and slaughter him. "Weird, she worked on that painting for the past month. Then, the closer she came to finishing it, the more she became insubordinate. Incomplete missions, attacking fellow Guards, remember she killed that new recruit? He just asked her to stand down, poor guy." The other Guard shook uncontrollably, that man was in his platoon, he watched him die.
"Commander Erol just let these things slide, she was to valuable to him to be executed. But, what is this?" the second guard wondered reaching out to touch the still wet paint. A sudden blast of cold air, almost like breath from the living dead escaped from beneath his fingers making him pull back and tense up. "Let's finish this." he growled lifting one end of the body bag while the other guard hefted the other. Moving with their anorexic armored burden, they left the room and locked the door behind them.
But, in the darkness of this crypt, new life coursed into undead eyes. Meya's final and greatest work. Mere hours before her brush danced over the gunmetal surface, fatigue and days without food or drink making her youthful features pulled and darker than usual. And finally, she stepped back to see her masterpiece. Staring long and hard at the wet paint, she collapsed onto the floor and gazed ravenously at the blood coursing beneath the sallow skin of her scarred arms.
"So little for so much." she whispered smiling to the monstrosity on the wall. With the last amount of her strength, she suited up and became the assassin again. Oh how many she killed in the name of the Warlord Erol. Men, women, and children. Invoking fear to force more to join the Guard. And all she could do was smile. "You are my God now." With her last breath, she drew her bone blades. As quick as a viper, she embedded them deep into her silvery green eyes and screamed a dying scream.
That was how they found her, starved and blinded with her dark mural burned into her mind as her last sight. She lay there beneath words of Precursor mixed with something else, a dark forgotten language, a dark curse. 'Time to end.'
But her God wouldn't let it end. He was a man, he was a monster. Eyes of purest ebony glaring past pale blue skin. The man who made her see, led her to regret, and finally led her to death. The man who lost part of his humanity and help her regain part of hers. Her failed mission led her to rebel. Her failure to assassinate Jak.
"Commander Erol just let these things slide, she was to valuable to him to be executed. But, what is this?" the second guard wondered reaching out to touch the still wet paint. A sudden blast of cold air, almost like breath from the living dead escaped from beneath his fingers making him pull back and tense up. "Let's finish this." he growled lifting one end of the body bag while the other guard hefted the other. Moving with their anorexic armored burden, they left the room and locked the door behind them.
But, in the darkness of this crypt, new life coursed into undead eyes. Meya's final and greatest work. Mere hours before her brush danced over the gunmetal surface, fatigue and days without food or drink making her youthful features pulled and darker than usual. And finally, she stepped back to see her masterpiece. Staring long and hard at the wet paint, she collapsed onto the floor and gazed ravenously at the blood coursing beneath the sallow skin of her scarred arms.
"So little for so much." she whispered smiling to the monstrosity on the wall. With the last amount of her strength, she suited up and became the assassin again. Oh how many she killed in the name of the Warlord Erol. Men, women, and children. Invoking fear to force more to join the Guard. And all she could do was smile. "You are my God now." With her last breath, she drew her bone blades. As quick as a viper, she embedded them deep into her silvery green eyes and screamed a dying scream.
That was how they found her, starved and blinded with her dark mural burned into her mind as her last sight. She lay there beneath words of Precursor mixed with something else, a dark forgotten language, a dark curse. 'Time to end.'
But her God wouldn't let it end. He was a man, he was a monster. Eyes of purest ebony glaring past pale blue skin. The man who made her see, led her to regret, and finally led her to death. The man who lost part of his humanity and help her regain part of hers. Her failed mission led her to rebel. Her failure to assassinate Jak.