White Emotions
One by one, Herald-Mage Vanyel fought each wizard. But he was dying. And knew it. The fight in his wrecked body was gone and when he felt like each lightening bolt that scorched his skin would be the last, he was still standing. The crisp stench of his burnt cloths caused him to wrinkle his nose.
The air was so thick with the scent of blood and seared ground he could taste it in the back of his throat. Fighting down the impulse to cry out as Vanyel felt the desolate fingers of loneliness close around his heart, the Herald strengthened his protections. Only to have them stripped away. And he knew, knew that he was going to die alone in this harsh, isolated place. And that nearly made the young man's heart stop.
Lereath grew impatient and began ordered his minions to move so that he could get through. Those damn wizards! Can't they do anything right? He snarled to himself. Ahead he caught sight of the flashing lightening and the inane shouts of battle cries grew louder. Growing inpatient with the tediously slow pace he was making because of so little area to move, he reached out and broke the neck of the man trying to step aside. Then began to walk over the crumpled body towards the next unwary soldier.
Abruptly Lereath found himself awake and shaking. Inhaling deeply, he tried too calm his pounding heart. Was that the future? My Foresight…He wasn't quivering out of fear, but anticipation. If that was truly to be the path he would walk, then he really would be taking his mindless army to Valdamear and that brought him a deep, twisted joy.
Smirking, he pitched himself out of bed in a manner more befitting a child. His ebony eyes glowed silver in the pitch of his room as he paced restlessly across the dustless floor. He knew every inch of his immaculate palace and often walked its silent stone passages in a black so thick it could suffocate.
But what about the delay I saw in my dream? Coming to a halt, Lereath ran a slender hand through his silky hair. He knew to never grow too bold. Being brash would have caused him to be revealedto his enemies long ago. No, Lereath was a cautious monarch. He always thought of himself as a silent cat killing with precision and always unseen. It never failed him to take everything into account. Even his dreams. No matter how minuscule the problem may seem, Lereath dealt with it quickly.
-.-.-
"Vanyel!" Tylendel was there. Holding him. The nefarious feel of his dream caused Vanyel to shudder and rattle his teeth painfully. His whole body was cold. The joints of his arms and legs hurt painfully when he tried to move them. Sweating, Vnayel looked up into Tylendel's lovely eyes. His face was taught with worry and Vanyel tried to pull away. But the younger boy only held him closer. And Tylendel held his breath as he thought that maybe now the healing could begin.