Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has been said before…just my OCs.
Hey guys! I'm back!
I know it's only been two months, but I really couldn't keep away. My plan for my original work has been pushed away again, mainly because I don't think I have the experience to write it yet.
Nonetheless, here we are again. For those of you who have no idea who I am and what this fic is, please check out "The Painting In The Attic" before reading this. Also, if you can't remember what happened last, please do the same and check that out before reading this.
Anyhow, here we go again!
Chapter 1: Black Ice
It was dark.
Too dark.
Before me, the black corridor stretched on, wide and deep, the throat of some shadowy beast descending away into blackness, still, silent black; the floor was marble, cold, pale marble but the walls and ceilings arched dark, climbing turrets of smooth, black rock, carved perfectly, sensuously. Black swirled and twirled, up into the night, walls melting into curving hollows, so smooth, so far, a flawless, endless gullet of black glaring down onto the moon-pale marble. Walls stretched, like liquid black, untouched, unmolested by nothing but the doors; simple doors, black doors, mere dark, shadowy doorways, black wood that seemed to blend effortlessly into the rock. They were everywhere, on both sides of the wide hallway, equally placed, perfect symmetry, their porticos simplistic and slim, a completely flawless design. Shadows leaped about the wood, prancing from door to door, avoiding the smooth, perfect black rock, as if the plague; in between the few doors, a pair at each turn, firelight glowed up above, in black torches, spitting, licking, flickering gleams of amber burning softly in another world. They were soft, too soft, fiery flames blazing, glowing, their gentle light glimmering against the pale floor, their shadows leaping like dark dancers in the milky moonlight. Ashes spat, and air hissed, oh so softly, the few fires glowing in unison, kicking alive-
But it did little against the dark.
Against the black rock.
Against the cold.
Asshole.
Beneath me, my footsteps were quiet, soft, hollow, ringing gently through the hollowed hallway, pats of metal on marble echoing down the darkness; there was no other sound but that, nothing but the dim of my footsteps, low thumps up into the arching black, soft as the fires, forgotten as wind. Nothing else moved, no other sound, nothing but the spitting of the flames, soft as they were, the tune of this dark, dark world. My robes rustled, just a little, brushing against my skin, against my bare neck, the rough cloth like straw grazing through the wind; the belt strapped at my waist jiggled a little, shifting with each padded step, the gleaming gold of the hook bouncing soundlessly against the black cloth, blazing with the soft ambers of the flames. The train of the black robe slapped behind, against the moonlight marble, a shifting, black tail following silently through the gloom, far too long for my legs. Black sleeves slapped noiselessly around my wrists, loose and free, dark as above.
My breath came out in a foggy puff.
Sparrow's beads laughed in my ear.
Asshole.
Stupid, good for nothing ass-
A door slammed.
I froze.
Fuck.
The sound was clear, loud, booming down the black hallway, echoing up into those smooth, curved arches like a slap of light in the dark, so sudden, so very loud.
I couldn't help it.
I froze.
I completely froze.
My feet stopped moving, my robes stopped swishing and my breath caught in my throat, squeezed away in my lungs, fingers frozen solid at my sides as I stared down that black hallway, mouth dry, heart screaming-
And a figure slowly emerged from the shadows, walking softly, gently, gliding down the black hallway, pulling away from the abyss; the firelight caught its edge as it slithered forward, its gold belt hook gleaming like a diamond against its chest. It made no sound, no sound at all as it glided forward, against the pale floor, walking between the lights, walking towards me; it was robed too, black robed, from head to toe, its body hidden away in the folds of the black rough cloth. In the dim, its face was veiled, secreted, buried by the darkness that pushed it forward like a black, black hand-
But I didn't need to see its face to know what it was.
Not ever again.
Daemon.
Without another word, I began to move again, screaming at my muscles to work, shaking my fingers away, shedding the icy paralysis to walk forward, down the monster's throat; each step was so heavy, so very heavy, the robe dragging down my skin as I pulled my stare away from the approaching black figure to the cold marble floor, trying to forget the world. Cold chilled, right to the bone, my mouth dry as hell as I walked on, focusing on the soft, hollow thumps of my footsteps, trying, desperately trying to blend into the dark, to be forgotten, to be unseen-
But my heart wailed and screamed, begging for attention, begging to be heard-
Not now.
Not today.
It moved without a sound.
Not this close.
The fires flickered as it slithered by, silent and cold, a dim figure in the dark, dark world, hushed like a ghost; as it neared, moving mutely, my footsteps like alarms in my head, my hand reached up and tugged at my hood, pulling it down even more, shielding my face. The hood was already down, a black drape across my shoulders and over my head-
But I had to make sure it couldn't see me.
It can't see me at all.
Not now.
Not today.
My heart moaned.
Not this close.
I looked at my feet.
For the next few seconds, it was all I saw; my metal boots padding down the marble floor, firelight gleaming against its rusted, crunchy edges, shadows dancing like marionettes against the cold, cold white world, my breath a distant white fog between my lips as my heart hammered, rushing in my head, rushing in the black-
And then, I looked up.
Just a bit.
It was walking by me, silent, cold, a shadow, slithering through the dark, blending right into the black rock, outlined by the faint, soft fires above. There was nothing to it, nothing but a black robe walking wordlessly in the abyss, soundless, silent, all dark and cold and black-
Except for its hands.
It's skeleton hands.
Oh God.
It was only a look, a simple second, but I turned away, fast, furious, the gasp choking out of my throat in wispy white, the icy cold strangling me as I turned back to my walking boots, brain screaming, heart thumping. I couldn't help it; I shivered, my spine tingling as I walked on, boots picking up pace, threatening to run and blow it, my heart banging and rattling against its iron bars as the image, the simple, quick image flashed in my mind over and over again…
Skeleton hands.
I swallowed a sob.
Oh God.
Beneath me, my legs to give way, to give in to the adrenaline, the basic instinct, to throw it all away and run for my life, run as far, far away as I could possibly get-
Not now.
Not today.
I clenched my fist.
Not this close.
With a sharp breath of icy air, I turned my head slightly, over my shoulder, black hood flapping against my head as I turned for one last look, just to make sure that I hadn't dreamt it all-
It was gone.
The daemon was gone.
Completely gone.
Oh God.
It was as if the thing, the robed creature, the daemon hadn't even been there; I had seen it pass me, moving slowly, silently, a black figure in a black world, barely discernible-
But it was no longer there.
Not a trace.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Nothing but the same hallway, the black hallway, the hollow, smooth black ceiling, the silent doors, the pale marble floor and the soft fires burning in their torches, snug against the cold.
Nothing but the darkness.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Fuck.
I ran into the darkness.
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There was nothing special about it.
Nothing at all.
It was just a door, one of the black doors, a chasm of darkness in the smooth, polished rock, set in a perfect, symmetrical shape; it stood with decorations, without embellishments, a simple, flat door, black wood climbing without a flaw. Its archway was simple as well, fine and smooth, ridges of black carved into the dark rock without a single scratch, curving over the top of the door like claws reaching down to swipe at passers' heads. It's bolts were black, as black as the door, metal blending into wood with perfect, simple craftsmanship; the knob was gold, solid, gleaming gold, glowing darkly down by the side, barely discernible in the faint, flickering light. Shadows marched up and down, a rectangular hollow of night.
It seemed to merge right into the black rock.
No.
Nothing special at all.
Nothing but the sliver of light below.
It was there, a simple sleeve of amber light seeping through the crack beneath the door, dancing gold upon the pale marble, flickering like the glow of stars; it glowed upon the edge of my boots, soft and gentle, warm like a forgotten dream, a better place, a better world. Nothing moved, no shadows, no patches of dark through the slim gold-
And thank god for that too.
Thank god.
With a soft sigh, I brought up my hands and wrapped them around my body, loose black sleeves rustling, nails biting down into the thick, black fabric; it was still cold, so, so cold, a chilling, dead cold, and even beneath the thick black robes, my bones felt chilled, iced, blood moving like sludge through my veins. My toes ached, my breath foggy and cold, spilling out in a mist of ice, my lips dry and tattered, my mouth like sawdust-
But I couldn't complain.
Not a word.
Not now.
Not today.
I pulled my hood even more.
Not this close.
Behind me, the hallway was as empty as usual, pale marble glowing like captured moonlight, black rock like the endless darkness, rectangular doorways marching on either sides, silent and cold, not a word, not a breath; the nearest lights came from three doors down, one on each walls, flickering, spitting warm flames reaching up to the black arches, pathetic in the icy dark. Tongues of amber licked against the ashen floor, like fire upon snow, the hissing of ashes and flames like loud bells in a clear, crystal night. Robes rustled against marble, rough against creamy smooth.
Nothing else moved.
Not this close.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the black door, at the plain, slate of wood, listening, breathing, cold fog slithering out into the darkness as my heart hammered away, jumping up my throat, the black pressing in, slithering in, suffocating, choking, strangling me away as ice bit into my screaming heart-
No.
Not this close.
Don't give up now.
Not after all this weeks.
Not now.
Not this close.
"Not this close," it came out as whisper, but in the dark, in the icy hallway, it sounded like a shout, a breathy echo vibrating up to the hollow black ceiling, ringing like a song, so very dark, so very clear. Pinpricks shot up my spine as those words ricocheted down the darkness, bouncing from walls to walls, an eerie, nameless whisper murmuring through the black as I stared down the mouth of the monster, into the empty black, waiting for something to hear me, to come for me, to tear out of the darkness and rip me to pieces, claws ragged and bloody-
Not this close.
My breath was like a foggy dream.
For the most dreadful of seconds, I just stared, waiting, frozen, my heart banging and banging and banging…
And then, I turned back to the door, took in a sharp icy breath and took a step back, looking down towards the marble; the doors were all about a meter apart on this wall, but each all the same, black, solid wood marching down in an endless sweep of gloom. They were identical, the one on the right, and the one on the left-
Only, unlike the one before me, there was no light beneath the door.
It was just darkness, total, complete darkness, and for a second, for just a flash of second, I wanted to open one, just to make sure, just to see. After all, the flames inside could have been doused, or blown off, and I could been just walking into another door, the wrong door-
Don't even think about it, me dame.
It came as a jolt, a fiery, golden jolt, a flash, a stab in my brain, warmth in a cold, cold world; I jumped, helplessly, my breath caught cold in my chest as the voice whispered in my ear, adrenaline racing hot and brilliant-
And then, I frowned.
"Get out of head, idiot," I hissed, violently, snarling, looking up to the black ceiling, as he would really be there, as if he was actually watching me-
Even though I knew he wasn't.
Even though I knew exactly where he was.
How else was I supposed to answer then?
How was I supposed to answer a god whispering in my head?
My fingers were frozen.
With a whispery, foggy sigh, I shook my head of his whispery words and turned back down, towards the door before me, towards the simple slate of black wood and the untouched golden light seeping from beneath; the world was empty, cold and alone, dark and silent, and though his words echoed in my mind, he wasn't here, not at all-
Because I was alone.
I was completely alone.
And I was close.
I was here.
Not this close.
I grabbed the golden doorknob and pushed it open.
Light spilled out, hot and furious and for a moment, all I could see was white, blinding, brilliant white, my eyes squeezing shut as the glow pushed over me, swallowing me, consuming me, amber flooding, smiting away the icy chill-
And then, with a few slow blinks, the world began to pull back to normal, the colour fading back in, the whiteness dissipating away, like fog on a growing morning, my eyes slowly adjusting to the sudden burst of light; as the world painted itself back, black and gold, a room began to fill up the lightened space, a bright, golden room beyond the edge of the black door. It was so different from the hallway, so very bright, so very clear, eyes blinking, waiting for it to melt away into another dream-
But it wasn't dream.
It was there.
It was real.
Beyond the black, faceless door was a long room, a long, golden room, ceiling domed above in an arch of rustic stone; it was rough stone, coarse, tough gravel of walls and floors and ceiling, all tinted a sweeping gold, painted a wild amber. There were no black rocks, no smooth black ceiling, no absolute darkness; it was as if the whole entire world had suddenly been painted over, all colour draining away, leaving nothing but the shivering cast of gold and amber, bright and brilliant, so very beautiful. Up above, the ceiling wasn't too high, and from its domed centre, glowing like the sun, was a giant black chandelier, its edges whipped with little flames, all bright and merry. It swung low, precariously, dangerously, a majestic Gothic artwork taking full centre in the long room. Little fires danced like puppets caught in strings.
Shadows leaped about the golden-cast cobblestone.
It was a long room, if anything, narrow at best, the two opposing walls but a few meters apart; on the right wall, upon the amber-danced rock, tall black windows arched, Gothic and gloomy, tall spires of twisty black rock sitting side by side, glass clear as day. They were an ancient sort, an old kind of art, all little gargoyles and twisted faces, light dancing upon small carved eerie eyes, shadows on perfect black. It was gruesome, to say the least, creepy eyes watching from the other side of the room, never blinking, black as death; between the swirling black frames, the glass panes were clear, crystal flat, showing the world outside-
Which wasn't any better than here.
Snow, white, icy snow, battered against the clear panes, whipping across the dark and even from this distance, through the reflections of light and shadows, I could it all; the white, blinding snow, the sparring, twisted mountains, the flat, black lands, the dark silence…
The Underworld.
I had a perfect view of the Underworld.
Hell.
Before me, sitting in the middle of the room, right below the large hanging black chandelier was a long, narrow table, a slice of black in a golden world; it was slim, a simple black table, the same black rock as the walls outside, curved smoothly, elegantly, hauntingly. It was surrounded by high-backed chairs, all around, symmetrical designs, tall, elegant thrones sitting silently, as if waiting for guests. They were like the windows; twisted spires and morbid faces, gargoyles perched at the top, monsters creeping along the edges. It was the same black rock too, perfect, smooth, completely untouched by light as the lidless monsters swam through the liquid black, teeth and claws ragged and bloody. Eyes stared back, raw and foul.
The chandelier rocked leaping shadows against the dark, snow-whipped panes.
Fire hissed.
Not this close.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring into the golden-cast room; then, with a soft gulp, I threw a glance behind, at the cold, dark hallway, and then moved forward, into the bright light.
It didn't changed as I moved into it, the room staying as it was, creepy black eyes watching from twisted window frames and curving black thrones; it was still horrible, as if I was being watched, as if those perverse monsters spiralling along the black rock were watching me, waiting for me, counting the seconds until they could reach out and claw into me, making me bleed….
And the light wasn't making me feel any better then I had in the hallway.
Well, what do you expect, Joey?
You're in Hell.
You're not supposed to feel better.
With slow steps, I walked into the room, leaving the door open behind me, in case I had to escape, to run for my life, for my very soul-
There was food on the table.
I didn't know how I missed it but there it was, splayed all across the narrow black table, garnished with dead flowers and tall, flaming black candlesticks; fruits and meats piled into plates, black, sombre plates scattered all about the table, a feast for many. Bananas and oranges and apples marched up alongside thick, greasy chicken legs, covered with raspberry and plump potatoes, all dripping sweet. Dead roses scattered, frail and broken, among the towering plates, fragrant and delicate between the rich aroma of cooked food, of delicious food, of sweet spices and salty sauces, all so wonderful. Dead flowers loomed between in dark vases, petal falling like black snow, the candlesticks of twisting, monstrous black alive with kicking flames, whipping grey smoke. Meat glistened, fresh and hot.
Grapes dripped wet.
Oh God.
Without so much as a word, I rushed over to the table, staring down at the bountiful food, at the sweet meat and fresh fruits, my stomach growling at the mere sight of it all…
God.
I need to eat.
I need to.
How long has it been since I last ate?
How long?
I may be dead and all, but I'm so hungry…
A finger went down and helpless, I poked into a thick roast beef, soaking in the dark gravy, the cooked flesh, bringing it to my lips for just one little taste-
No.
With a quick jolt, I yanked my finger down, back to my side, adrenaline blazing, stomach screaming, heart booming for the pleasure of just one lick-
No.
Don't.
I swallowed back a gulp of sour saliva.
Don't doom yourself, Joey.
My voice quavered but I quickly wiped at my finger, rubbing it against the black of my robe, removing any temptation-
Because I didn't stay here.
No matter how delicious it looked.
No matter how delicious it really was.
I don't want to stay in Hell.
My heart boomed in my ears.
It took a while to completely wipe my finger, to make sure that it was completely gone less I forgot and bit my nails; it still smelt like gravy, like sweet, delicious gravy, all meat and pepper…
Focus, Joey.
I swallowed back a sigh, and then turned away from the table.
At the left of the room, opposite the looming, Gothic windows and the scenery of lonely, icy hell, was a roaring fire place, all black and twisted, a giant monster roaring golden, hot flames in its mouth, fangs of black twisting down, stabbing into air. It was hideous, just as the chairs, as the watching windows; monsters, beasts, wild ogres danced along the whipping black, bloody eyes, weathered claws, snapping teeth and twisted tongues. Dead faces stared listlessly out into the world, eyes empty, lips tearing in screams of agony, skeletons crushed beneath the feet of trolls and daemons, blood black and putrid. Bodies scattered, limbs hanging bloody and raw, faces wretched away in silent screams of anguish and torture…
It was enough to make me completely lose any thoughts of ever eating again.
Oh God.
Bile rushed up my throat.
For a moment, all I could was stare at it, at those eyes, at those black horrible eyes, those bloody claws, those silent screams, my entire body frozen by the thought, by the very sight, by the very possibility…
Is this what she did?
Is this what she did with souls that-
I closed my eyes, and swallowed, pulling myself back, pulling my senses back, pushing away all thoughts, all horrible, horrible thoughts-
Because I had a job to do.
I had to do it.
Don't freak out, Joey.
Not now.
Not today.
I swallowed and opened my eyes, body shivering.
Not this close.
Above the terrible fireplace, above the twisted faces and black bloods was a painting, a long, wide painting stretching the entire length of the golden-washed wall, light from the roaring fires below dancing upon like shadow puppets, dancing a jig; it was a painting, a beautiful, artistic work, fine lines, perfect blends, a masterpiece of great beauty-
Only, that it showed a dungeon.
It was a painting of a dungeon, a giant, dark dungeon, ceiling sightless in the never-ending black; tall, gravel arches pierced up into the darkness, sharp, utilitarian, simplistic, nothing like the Gothic wear of the room around me….
Or as empty.
All about the painting, in the wide scope of a dark, stone dungeon were people, pale, sick people scattered everywhere, splayed everywhere, as if nothing more then furniture, dead, lifeless objects; there had to be about ten of them, spread out about the painting, random and messy. To truth, the dungeon looked small, a simple underground courtyard with broken stones and ragged steps, firelight gleaming in torches, high against the wall; there were bars too, cells, shadowy figures limped behind them, banging on the black metals. Others just laid about, tied at the wrists with black manacles, splayed upon broken rocks, bloody and defeated, pale with death. Shadows hunched in corners, arms tearing in agony, faces distant and vague as they stared listlessly into the growing dark-
Oh God.
I couldn't breathe.
Oh God.
Not a breath.
No.
My heart screamed.
For a moment, for just a moment, the entire world went still, silence engulfing, darkness stabbing as I stared up, mouth dry, heart banging, at the painting, at the painted figure of man, a prisoner, bowed forward on his knees, hands locked behind him by manacles, black coat billowed on gravel stone, shoulders hunched in defeat, dark curly hair limp, falling in the dark, blood trailing down cold, pale skin, beautiful, dark eyes looking down towards death….
Will.
My heart died.
Oh God.
It was as if the whole entire universe had broken down, had frozen, everything in existence stopping, halting, pausing for that one, precious moment as I looked at that figure, that painted man-
And I knew.
I just knew.
Will.
A sob choked through my throat.
"Will."
No one spoke, no one replied, and nothing existed except me and that painted figure, that loose brown hair, that hard brown eyes, that man….
I shivered.
Will.
I couldn't breathe, not really, and all I could do was stare and stare, hardly believing, barely understanding; somehow, somewhere, in the fog of the dream, in the sight of the wretched painted body, a hand went up and I lowered down my hood, pushing it back and freeing my face, my skin, my short dark blonde hair, my curling beads…
And the figure didn't move.
Will didn't move.
Will.
A tear burned down my cheek.
Will.
"I've found you," it was so soft, so very soft that I could barely hear it myself, a whispered choke deep inside of me; my heart burned, fiery ruins, a pain, an unbelievable pain seizing my heart and cutting me up, my fingers shivering as they touched the old medicine man's eye, running along the metal beads and gliding along the carved bone, fiery, hot eyes staring up at the small, painted figure, so far away...
Because I had finally found him.
I had finally found Will.
Will.
Worlds past, time died and all that mattered was him, that I had found him, that he was there, right in front of me, after all these weeks, beautiful, sad, haunting, trapped, manacles black and gruesome, blood red and thick, eyes gone and dead-
A howl tore through the icy air.
It came so sudden, so very loud that I jumped, kicked out of the trance, the haunting sound echoing faintly from far away, a chilling, high-pitched howl of some animal, of some terrible beast-
Balder.
My body snapped into action.
Without a word, I spun around and grabbed the nearest chair, fingers digging into smooth, horrid black rock and dragged it across the gravel, pushing it to the far end of the wall, beside the hideous fireplace. Black eyes stared out at me, gargoyles watching from their perches-
But all that wasn't important now.
Not now.
Not today.
Adrenaline screamed through my every vein.
Not this close.
There was another howl, a piercing, loud howl, scattered and eerie, the laments of some terrible beast as I pushed the black chair against the wall, heart pumping, brain racing, my eyes burning with such fires as I ignored the horrid black fire place-
And jumped onto the tall chair, onto the hard, rock seat, black robes flapping. My short hair bounced, a halo of dark blonde against the nape of my neck as I skipped onto the seat, Sparrow's beads laughing in my ear, the howls fading away all senses-
And Will's painted figure bent in utter sorrow.
Will.
My heart screamed.
Will.
Another howl, loud and clear, nearer, and this time, I didn't hesitate anymore, not for another second; I was high enough now, high enough to touch the painting, to touch him. The black robe billowed behind me, rough and heavy against my back, pulling me down as my eyes levelled with the small, painted figure of a man I longed for, searched for, for so long…
Another howl.
Louder.
Nearer.
Will.
Without another word, without another pause, I reached forward and jumped into the painting.
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I hit the cobblestones with a loud, unnerving crack.
Black robe swelled behind me, the dark hood flapping against the nape of my neck, hair spilling away into a messy halo; my hands were beneath me, cushioning my fall, the rough gravel of the stone floor grazing against my nose I fell face-first, my entire body jolting with aching pain. Skin bristled with the icy chill.
I groaned.
Fuck.
For a moment, I just laid there, tired, beaten, the fall hitting me square in the chest as I breathed out against the rough gravel, breath cold and foggy, Sparrow's beads laughing against my naked ear, the metal hook at the belt ringing against my body like a loud bell. Bones panged, shocked from the fall, skin grazing against the coarse floor, my eyes staring tiredly down at the rough, uneven patterns of unpolished gravel. Lungs panted, heavy with exhaustion.
Yup.
Never doing that again.
With a groan, I slowly raised my head, neck aching, hair falling array, eyes blinking tiredly as I looked out at the new scene before me-
The dungeon.
I was in the dungeon.
The painting.
Oh God.
I blinked.
It worked.
Before me, the painting was no longer a painting; no, it was real, as real as me, a small dungeon, a rocky prison opening up right before my eyes. It was no longer just lines, just paint, just simple ink, just the imagination of a depraved…
No.
It was real.
Real.
Completely real.
Oh God.
Before me, the stone courtyard opened, the tall, sharp arches pointing up towards an unreal darkness, simplistic, carved rock, shadows leaping all about; the steps were there, all broken and ancient, climbing a few steps, looming away to another place, a hidden, darker place. The metal bars were there too, black, dark cells reaching from floor to ceiling, rusted and old, strong and ancient. Manacles hung, black and gleaming, swinging in the swirl of hot firelight, chiming like the chains of the dead. Hot flames torched towards the black, black ceiling, captured in torches, high on the walls, casting shadows of gold and amber across the dark, rocky room, spirits of the dead dancing in their graves. Flames hissed and spat, licking up the cold air, stabbing into the abyss…
And the people.
The people were real too.
More then real.
Oh God.
All about the small dungeon, scattered, forgotten, laid people, bodies, men and women lying in absolute defeat, pale bodies sickly in the cast of the dark. Bones protruded, manacles hanging tight and raw around hands and feet as bodies laid and slouched, flat against floors or splayed against rocks, stirring, writing, rustles of cloth and murmurs of voices echoing up into the dark. They were so pale, so very pale, blood dripping pure red against their ashen skins, clothes tattered and thorn, hair stringy and grey. Faces stared up, up into the dark, sallow, pale faces, silent faces, eyes grey and lost, forgotten forever, whispers between dry, chapped lips, murmurs of voices that were no longer human…
And somewhere behind, somewhere out of sigh, the sound of whips, and the screams of a man.
Oh God.
I didn't want to move.
I didn't want to move at all.
All around me, the dungeon pressed, darkness looming above, fires spitting, wayward bodies lying in total despair, no longer alive, no longer human, souls of men and women long lost and forgotten, icy air foul with the stench of utter human filth, whispers of dread, of pain and agony through the thick, black abyss-
I clamped my hands over my ears.
Oh God.
I didn't want to hear.
I didn't want to see.
This place….
This horrible, horrible place….
Oh God.
The tears came then, full-fledged tears, and for a moment, for just a moment, I forgot everything, every important thing, my job, my task, Will-
And just cried.
Cried.
Like a child.
Like a terrified, lonely child.
All around me, this world, this painting…
It was so dreadful.
So bloody terrible.
Oh God.
For a moment, it was all I did; I just cried, hands over ears, tears burning flames, heart wracking inside as I stared out into the horrid world, into the dread, and the agony, and pure torture, the screams echoing inside my head, tearing me to bits-
And then, I saw him.
I saw him.
Will.
He was there, just as I had seen him, from beyond the painting, exactly as before; William Turner was there, off to the left, down on his knees, legs astray. His black coat was swelled around him, just as I had seen him, the dark leather wrapped around his body, dusty and old. Black boots stuck out from beneath, crusty with mold and wear, dripping wet and dark. Firelight danced upon him, amber against the dark, gold light framing his straggled form; above, his skin was pale, pale and ghastly, sick, ashen, dead, so very white that for a second, for just a second, I wasn't sure that it was him at all.
For just a second.
Just one second.
Will.
His hair was as dark as I remembered, that beautiful, curling dark brown hair, limp in the dank air, falling around him, down his leathered back; it was unruly, wild, curls of endless brown knotted here and there, a mane of bronze down his back. Amber danced along its edges, ringing them gold, a fiery mane limp against his back, slumped in defeat. It seemed to blend right into the dusty black leather, knots of curls, wild tresses; below them, far below, his pale, pale hands were strapped against his back, black manacles tight along his wrist, bleeding red. They were hooked to the broken wall behind him, to the slump of the rock of which he splayed, forgotten and bruised, a short, black chain hanging in between, swinging in the whispering dark. Golden light danced along the edge of his back, his amber-limned shoulders hunched forward, broken, defeated, arms straggled and pale. Dark tresses hung limply about his face, hiding it from sight, hiding his dark, dark eyes.
His head bent down, vanquished.
Defeated.
My heart screamed.
Will.
For a moment, I just laid there, forgetting everything else, forgetting the dungeons, the listless souls, the black whispers, the tortured screams…
And just saw him.
Only him.
Only Will.
Will.
I moved before I could think, before I could process anything; it had to be him, it just to be. After all these weeks, after all that work, after all that searching, after everything….
It had to be him.
It had to be Will.
My feet felt like lead.
Will.
It was as if no one could see me, not even Will; I moved, towards them, towards them all, right into their circle, mindlessly passing wayward bodies, stepping over dripping blood…
But no one cared.
No one saw.
Could they even see?
Will.
My body had no mind, my steps any focus but then, just like that, I was there.
I was beside him.
Will.
It was him, no doubt about it; sitting right there, in the dark, silent, deaf, skin pale and ghastly, eyes buried in the black…
But it was him.
It was Will.
My Will.
I moved then, so quickly, so fast, my brain wasn't even working; black robe billowed behind me as I swerved around him, ignoring everything else, everyone else, as I moved my body and rushed right before him, right in front of him. Souls whispered, whips cracked far away…
But all that mattered was Will.
Just Will.
Will.
A sob cracked in my throat.
"Will?" I was in front of him now, my body shivering, shuddering, my heart spasming within me as I looked down upon him, tear raw and hot in my ears; he laid on a rock at the height of my hips, so close he was, so very close, my fingers aching to grab him, to hold him, to never let him go-
But he wasn't answering me.
He just sat there, a doll, a shadow, head bent down towards his lap, hands tied behind him, dark hair shivering in the flickering black, face buried away. His skin glowed in the firelight, so pale, so ashen, his body so very still as he hunched over, a broken man, a ruined soul…
I reached forward.
My fingers felt so hard, so very sharp as I reached down and touched his chin, just a little, wrists kissing against his knotty curls; his skin was so cold, so very cold, his hair wet and long, my heart screaming away….
A sob rippled through my body.
"Will?"
He moved.
It was so soft, so very slow that for a second, I thought it was just my imagination, just my hope, just my vapid desire.
But then, he stirred, and in the fog of the world, in the gloom of the dead, William Turner tilted his head slowly and looked up at me.
Will.
There it was, among the curls, among the dirt, among the flickering darkness; his face, his beautiful, beautiful face, his sharp nose, his little moustache, his high cheekbones, his swelt, perfect lips –
And his eyes.
His beautiful eyes.
Will.
For a second, he just looked at me, and I just looked at him, and a tear ran down my cheek as I kept my finger to his chin, my heart soaring, my blood screaming white-hot. Every cell in me burst awake, alive, kicking, screaming, my entire being vibrating with such energy, with such force, warm, delicious force-
Because he was here.
I had found him.
I had found Will.
Will.
A smile cracked across my lips.
"Hey there."
He didn't answer.
He just looked at me, and it took me a second to realise that he wasn't seeing me, not really; his dark eyes, those dark , dark eyes which I yearned so long for were grey, hazy, unfocused, as if staring into another world, right through me….
The smile fell from my lips.
Oh God.
No.
No.
No.
It can't be.
Balder said….
Balder said he might…
No.
No.
Please.
No.
God-
His voice was just a whisper.
"Joey?"
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
It just spilled out of my lips, a giddy, happy sort of laugh, cutting right through the cold, through the blinding cold, my heart dancing and soaring and laughing with complete mirth; I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around him, giving in to my desire and holding him, holding him for the first time in what seemed like forever, holding him close, holding him near, wrapping my body around his cold, cold one…
And I just held on, smiling into his dirty hair, holding him forever-
Because I was never letting him go again.
Never.
Not again.
Will.
"Are you dead too?"
It came so soft, but it was enough to pull me back; with a rustle of cloth, I pulled apart from him and gazed back down at him, still holding him, clutching him by the shoulders, the smile still silly and giddy among my lips. His dark hair fell, untidy, messy, and as I pulled back, still smiling, still unbelievably ecstatic, I saw his dark brown eyes caught the light, and the golden tint, the golden way his eyes always seemed flashed right through, bright and brilliant; the fog was clearing from them, the vagueness, the dream melting away but his face was still confused, still asleep, the dream in them slowly drifting away as if he was being shaken awake. He was still in the mist though, still so lost, still so far away-
But now, he was looking at me.
He could see me.
He saw me.
Will.
I tucked one of his curls off to the side, softly, gently.
My smile couldn't go away.
"Sort of," I nodded, grinning, smiling down at his foggy, dreamy face, wanting to hold him again, to hold him forever and ever and ever, my heart laughing with joy deep in my chest, "Not really. It's hard to explain-"
His voice was still so far away.
"Is that really you?"
I just smiled.
What else could I say?
Will was here.
Will was back.
I've found Will, after all this time-
A scream pierced through the dream.
For a second, bewilderment engulfed me as I looked about, adrenaline pumping, synapses snapping as I looked about for the danger, for the harm, for an escape route-
And remembered where we were.
We were still there, in the painting, in the dungeon, surrounded by forgotten souls, whispers of black, screams of the tortured, cracking of whips-
We were still here.
We were still trapped.
We need to get out of here.
Will was still staring at me, but I was already moving; my body was working on its own as I released Will, regrettably, and charged behind him, towards the manacles around his hands at the back. He was still confused, asleep, dreamy, staring at the space where I had just been, face screwed up in confusion; but I didn't time for that. I had to explain later.
Much later.
Survive first.
Talk later.
His skin was so cold.
"What are you doing?" He was still so soft, his voice like a dream, like a beautiful, beautiful dream, but I had to move, I had to work…
I had to get us out of here.
We need to get out of here.
"Rescuing you," I said simply enough, my voice loud and clear in the whispering dark, my grin flashing momentarily as I considered him, my hands working on their own; fingers dashed into my black robes and pulled out with a large, black key, the length of my palm. It was cold, icy, a smooth, perfect black rock carved into a skeleton key, embellished with carven figures, writing bodies and laughing monsters. A rope dangled from it, hooked at its end, and for a moment, I stared at it, at those same black, haunting eyes.
Voices whispered.
We need to get out of here.
I pushed the key into the lock.
It perfectly of course, and for next few seconds, I twisted and twisted the key, turning it about in the lock, in the square bolted lock joining the manacles to Will's cold hands. Chains chimed and moaned, laments of the dead, and Will just sat there, hunched, staring forward, slowly waking up from a sleep, a horrible, tainted sleep. Stone grazed against rusty black metal, dark chains knocking back and forth against gravel with the effort. Screams tore in the distance.
Whips cracked.
We need to get out here.
"A key," his voice was so dreamy, my hands beginning to hurt from all the twisting, from all the turning, my heart stinging with growing urgency, adrenaline rushing, blazing like flames, "A key…where did you get a key?"
His voice was enough to make me smile.
"Oh," I grinned, inching the key as a click sounded from the lock, "We might have stolen it from her bedroom."
He was still so lost.
"Her?"
There wasn't time to answer. There was final click, a loud clear one, and then the manacles fell loose, dropping free, clanging down onto the rock. A burst of laugher escaped my lips as Will's hands went free, the pale skin sickly and dead beneath the black bounds-
And he was bleeding.
There was blood-
No.
Not now.
Survive first.
Talk later.
Later.
"Come on!" I grabbed him then, fingers digging into dusty leather, "We don't have much time!"
He could barely move.
My fingers dug in, but Will was helpless, still locked away in that dream, in that horrible state, lost away in another world, lost forever-
And so he fell, hard, to the cobblestone, inches away from another soul, crashing like a sack of bones, helpless, pathetic, dark curls tearing through the icy air…
Will.
Once again, my body moved, faster than my brain, and I was by his side in seconds, hands digging under his arm, lifting him back. He was dead weight, completely helpless, his brown eyes lost and bewildered, face screwed in confusion, his skin so very cold; but I shoved with my shoulder, digging under his arm, and then wrapping his cold, livid arm around my shoulder, taking his weight.
Pushing him on.
His feet couldn't move, so I dragged him, his skin so cold, so icy, our boots dragging through pools of black blood, over icy bones and whispering lips, my muscles straining, my heart pumping, adrenaline shooting through my veins, surging me on, pushing me on, pushing us both on-
His voice came out, breathy and confused.
"Stop."
I clutched him even tighter.
"No time."
His feet were so heavy, so very heavy, dragging us back as I pushed us on, over souls, over blood, over hanging chains, straight back towards the walls, towards where I had come from, or at least where I thought I had come from-
He sounded so lost.
"Stop."
I shook my head; there was a soul there, staring right at us, looking with pale, ghastly eyes, mouth open, reaching forth in a silent scream….
"No time," I repeated, huffing as I held him, as I dragged him, my every cell fighting to get him out of here, to save him, "Balder's holding off the hounds, but there isn't much time. We can't delay, Will."
He didn't reply.
Darkness fell from above as I pushed us both, pushing and pushing, dragging his dead weight, keeping him as close as possible because I never, ever wanted to lose him again. Not ever, not ever again, because if I let him go for just one moment, for just one second…
His breath was hot against my ear.
"Joey."
Will.
And with that, I charged us both into the cobblestone wall, head first, feet last, fingers gripping onto him, never letting him go as we slammed right into the wall, not knowing if we were going to fall through, or to just crash against the hard, rough rock-
Grey rushed, solid transcending past like a whoosh of wind and all of a sudden, we were crashing down in the light, falling through the icy chill and then a flat smash onto the gravel floor, light blinding our eyes. A loud crack echoed after us, bones screaming at the impact, hair flying, robe billowing and for a second, for just a second, all I could was red, thick and bloody red.
Will.
I opened my eyes.
All around me, the golden-cast long room loomed quietly, silently, amber ceilings doming perfectly, black chandelier rocking silently. The fireplace was beside us, its roaring belly hidden by its grotesque black side, ashes scattered all about its feet like grey snow. Before us, the limbs of the table were long and dark, the chairs legs twisted and gnarly in the glow of the golden flames, dead petals floating to the rough, gold-washed stone like dead snowflakes falling to the world. Little fires whipped in the chandelier, quiet and appeasing, and across from it, from between the black legs, the windows sat sombre, showing the black, icy world outside.
The world smelt of dead roses.
We're back.
For a moment, I just laid there, riding out the pain, relishing in the bright, golden light, in the heavenly silence-
And then, I turned to look at Will; he was there, right beside me, still in my grip, slowly struggling up to a sitting position, eyes blur, face stoned. His lips were twisted with aching pain as he rose slowly, black coat lounging, the maroon shirt beneath flowing loose as he pulled himself from the ground, slow and steady. Dark curls, still knotted, flowed about loosely, so very beautiful in the glow of the room.
His eyes were gold.
Will.
With a soft sigh, I began to pull myself up as well, bones aching, blood rushing; Will was half-way up, moving so slowly, stirring out of the dream, the fog slowly fading away from his bright, gold eyes-
And I couldn't help it.
I hugged him again.
I threw my arms around him, engulfing him, enveloping him, and he staggered, his back leaning, his legs still sprawled beneath him just as mine were; but I didn't move.
I couldn't.
I just wanted to hold on to him forever.
Will.
For a moment, we just sat there, my arms tight around him, his body limp and lifeless, weak and exhausted, a sob choking right through my throat-
And then, I felt an arm wrap around me as well.
Will.
I had him.
I've found him.
After all this time…
Will was back.
I found Will.
I had Will back.
I had Will back.
Nothing else mattered, nothing at all; the world faded as I buried my face into his hair, smelling him, remembering him, his soft, tender curls, his rough skin, his voice, his beautiful voice speaking my very name, whispering into my ear, hot and alive…
And I was never going to let him go.
Not now.
Not ever.
Never, ever again.
Never.
Will.
I've found you, Will.
I've found you.
And I'm never letting you go.
I'm holding on, and I'm never letting go.
Never.
Never.
Never, ever-
The door slammed.
It was startling, a frightening, that even in Will's weak, lifeless embrace, I jumped, pulling back from him, from his body, from his being, my eyes tearing open as I searched out, instinct kicking into overdrive-
And then, I saw her.
Before me, standing a few meters behind Will, before the black wooden door that I had first come in with, was a woman.
A beautiful woman.
Her.
She stood there, tall and proud, a wondrous sight ablaze in the golden-cast room; dark hair, raven hair spilled down her lanky body, thick and curly, luscious and glossy, falling over her shoulders in waterfalls of black, glorious, beautiful black. They were so long, so fine, dancing down her back, over her radiant dress; upon her body, her perfect, slim body was a violet dress, a beautiful dress, embossed with flowers and trees, a vision of stunning purple in such a dead world. She was the only colour in the room, her purple dress violent against the blacks and gold, like a star on a dark night, a sun to a dead world. Violet silk trailed back, a striking train of indigo against the golden-washed floor, her dark hair stunning against the silk of the purple thread. Golden string laced about the purple silk, dancing nymphs and flowers and glorious trees, the breath of spring, the breath of life. Her dark hair flowed down, smooth like a river, curving upon her heaving bosoms, so dark her curls, so very free; her skin was pale, deathly pale, a perfect sort of pale that stunned against her black, black hair, a beautiful, perfect shade.
Too beautiful.
Oh God.
Up above, her face was lovely, all flaring pale cheekbones and sharp nose, her lips a full, subtle pink, cheeks darkened with blush. Earrings, pale, diamond stones, hung from her perfect ears, gleaming like stars in the night against her black, black hair. Her forehead was broad, her pale skin even and unblemished, and above, her lashes were dark and thick, every girl's dream.
Her eyes were a cold blue.
Familiar blue.
Oh God.
Upon her head, strapped around her gorgeous head, was a crown, a pale, white crown studded with gems and jewels, bright and beautiful, the white rock carved together so elegantly, so wonderfully-
Because they were bones.
She was wearing a crown of bones.
Oh God.
Oh fucking God.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
I just sat there, staring at her, at this strange, beautiful sight, at this radiant woman standing between the door and us. Will was turned before me, staring at her as well over his shoulder, his body slumped, his breath weak, his dark hair wild as he looked meekly over at her, still dazed, still lost, his skin so very cold-
She smiled.
I couldn't breathe.
Oh god.
"I hate happy endings."
END OF CHAPTER!
That's it! That's chapter 1 of the sequel!
Just to note: this fic will take longer to write, mainly because I'm going to take my time with it. So, sorry about that.
Anyhow, I hoped you enjoy Chapter 1! If you have anything to say, go ahead and leave a message on my review board. Also, share with your friends, if you want to! I'm open to constructive criticism, and am looking forward to hearing from you guys.
Love you lot, and see you soon!
XOXO