AN: Enjoy the chapter folks! Be sure to leave a review when you finish!
EDITED 5/22/18 Minor changes, primarily in regards to the mythos early in the chapter.
Berserk
Chapter Thirty
{i'll ask of the Berserks, you tasters of blood}
She's surrounded by a haze: thick and dark, shadows swimming in and out of focus, disappearing whenever she tries to look closer, slipping just out of sight. They taunt her, twisting around her, voices low and indistinguishable, whispers hissing in her ears, angry and harsh, a sense of urgency to the calls. Something moves from the corner of her eye, but when she turns to look, there's nothing there, only a stretch of darkness that seems to be swallowing everything. Cold and cruel, it slinks across the ground, silent as death.
There's something violent in the air, something that rest thick on her tongue, bittersweet. The smell curls through her lungs, choking her, and Lucy feels her mind growing foggy. Her head lolls to the side and she sinks to the ground, looking around blearily, confused by the unfamiliar surroundings—the nothingness around her.
Lucy sucks in a shaky breath, mouth growing dry. Her tongue feels too big for her mouth, almost swollen, and her eyes itch. At her sides, her hands twitch, fingers curling and jerking, pulled by invisible strings. Her left arm burns worse than it ever has before. It feels stiff at her side, limp, and she can feel it pulse with every beat of her heart, thrumming loudly until it begins to drown out the whispers around her until all she can hear is her own rapid pulse. Her heart beats too fast, stuttering slightly, and panic wells in her chest.
She doesn't know where she is or how she got here. She remembers her head pounding and the smile slipping from Natsu's face, his brow creasing with worry. She remembers excruciating pain, like nothing she's ever felt before. Lucy remembers thinking she was going to die, that she was never going to go home. And then nothing.
All alone in the darkness is where she finds herself, a shiver wracking her body. She's never been afraid of the dark, not really. There was never anything to be afraid of, with the stars watching over her at night. Velsigna av Strakaz. That's what Natsu called her. Blessed by stars. He told her little of the legend, about how Estra, daughter of Djerda, pulled the stars from the sky and gave them life, proving her devotion to Ieyar, a chaos god, and creating the Fae, their magic gifted to them by Ieyar.
It's a story she'd like to believe. The stars have always given her a sense of life, of purpose. They've always comforted her when she needed them, a constant, never drifting from her side when they mattered most, not like people do. She's always been grateful for them, especially since her mother's death, and she wonders if the stars really were looking over her.
But they're gone now, too far away for Lucy to see, almost as if they were never there to begin with. They're gone and for the first time in her life, Lucy is truly alone. It terrifies her, the darkness and the shadows slinking closer, more alive than she'd have thought possible.
It feels almost alive, but not quite. It isn't sentient, but it calls to her, urging her to follow. Her arm gives a sore ache in response, and something slithers into her thoughts, her feet moving before she can stop them. Lucy catches herself just before stepping into the thick, foggy darkness around her, stopping just a breath away. The air feels like ice, her skin prickling, and when she exhales she can see her breath disappear into the shadows, little wisps consumed by darkness.
Lucy takes a step back, the chill slipping away, and she shivers at the feeling of an icy finger trailing along her spine, solid and more real than anything she's ever felt. Whipping around, her gaze flickers around the emptiness surrounding her, searching for anything that may have touched her, but finds nothing. She shivers again, but not because of the cold.
Her eyes search wildly, but there's nothing, just her and the darkness.
For a long moment she wonders where Natsu is, trusting him not to abandon her, not to the shadows and the monsters that prowl within. He wouldn't just leave her like that, she knows he wouldn't. Maybe it's foolish to place so much trust in someone she's known for such a short amount of time, but if she can't trust Natsu at this point, who can she trust? No one else has stayed by her side through so much in such a short period of time.
Something pulls at her mind then, and her vision blurs as she crumples to the ground, legs giving out beneath her. Lucy hits the ground hard, legs heavy beneath her, and she can't seem to find the strength to stand, not with her thoughts so thick and jumbled, tangled together.
The pain in her arm increases, and she gropes at her left arm, nails digging into her skin without her realizing it. She draws blood, it dripping down her arm and slipping from her fingers, pooling by her knees, though she doesn't notice. Her head throbs and her arm echoes the pulse, something burning hot flooding her veins, like fire is being forced beneath her flesh. Slowly, her skin begins to peel, splitting open and leaking blood and puss. The skin gives way to muscle and bone, ivory stark against the blood splattering across the floor around her.
The darkness edges closer and closer, moving in while she's not looking, her eyes squeezed shut tightly. Her teeth dig into her lower lip, but Lucy doesn't care. Tears bead in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks slowly as she curls in on herself, a whimper escaping her as something sharp splits through her skull, knife twisting tearing at her insides until it's simply too much. Her arm tingles and when Lucy looks down she sees black veins, dark lines covering her skin nearly entirely, her flesh consumed by something greedy and wicked, something that hungers for control.
With a jolt, Lucy's eyes snap open, her head throbbing, mouth dry, and her arm still on fire. The voices around her grow clearer, though they're unfamiliar, an edge of worry to the words, but nothing distinguishable, nothing worth remembering. She doesn't recognize the people speaking, doesn't think she cares, so long as they can make the pain go away.
It hurts to think—hurts to breathe, and whenever her fingers twitch it sends a sharp jolt through her entire being, like she's burning from the inside out, smoke filling her lungs and hr flesh charring on her bones, reducing her to nothing.
She's vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but the fog around her is too thick for her to follow the sound. Her ears begin to ring, swallowing everything else around her, and Lucy whimpers, eyes squeezing shut for only a moment before snapping open wide, too afraid of the darkness to keep them closed.
Her lungs rattle with the breath she takes, a low whine pulling from her, sound swallowed by the movement around her.
It takes her a moment to realize that she's no longer surrounded by the darkness, but pale light that flickers gently, almost pulsing above her. Lucy squints, trying to peer through the light, but to no avail. It's too harsh, she realizes quickly, to thick and too bright, her sense of sight muffled.
Again, something moves in the corner of her vision, Lucy's head slipping to the side to see what it is, curious despite her murky thoughts. It's human in shape, tall and looming over her, almost protective in its stance. She hears a low growl sound from above her, the rumble slipping through her ringing ears and gaining her rapt attention.
The words have no form, but they're angry, livid, almost. A snarl tears from the person beside her, warm fingers brushing against the skin of her arm, tender in the way they graze her skin. There's an edge of terror to the words, a low whine and something like guilt, though she can't be sure, the words lost to her.
A second shape joins the first, then a third, and Lucy doesn't bother to focus on them, knowing it's pointless. She can barely think, her mind too slow. She's tired and she aches everywhere. It's like wading through honey, her thoughts slow and the struggle pointless as she's sucked further down, lost to everything around her.
There's a light touch along her jaw and cheek, familiar fingers tracing the curve of her skin soothingly. A hand slides to her temple, pushing her hair away from her face before circling back down, calloused skin lingering against her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin.
Her vision clears, if only for a moment, but she knows who it is hovering over her even before the fog around her clears. He would never leave her, she knows, and she was right.
Lucy focuses on the person above her and sees green eyes, though he isn't looking at her.
For a long moment, nothing happens. Natsu doesn't look at her eyes, focusing on anything but, and Lucy can't find the words to ask him what's wrong—what's happening—where is she—though she doesn't think she'd want to know, even if she could force the words out.
The voice begin to grow louder, and Lucy can recognize the deep baritone of Natsu's voice, words sharp and laced with concern. He bares his teeth at one of the strangers, growling at their reply, obviously not satisfied with their answer. His brow furrows, his lips curved back in a snarl, though there's no real bite to it, only an edge of panic. His expression turns pleading, his voice growing softer. His fingers stroke across her cheek, his touch burning against her clammy skin.
There's a soft reply and Natsu's eyes narrow, a familiar look of confusion crossing his face, only for his eyes to widen in horror a moment later. His mouth opens, Natsu beginning to shake his head slowly, but he's too late.
Something sharp rips across her arm, painful, but nothing she hasn't felt before. Lucy blinks, confused, but then something white hot tears through her entire body, starting from her left arm and ripping through her, the breath slamming from her lungs as her body jolts in shock, the feeling of a thousand knives stabbing her wracking her body.
A shrill sound pierces the air, high and pained, and it takes Lucy a moment to realize she's screaming. Her eyes snap open, Lucy unaware that they had fallen shut before the sudden pain flaring through her arm erupted. It slinks through her, curling everywhere until Lucy thinks her skin is splitting apart at the seams, her body tearing itself apart slowly, nothing to stop it from destroying everything in its path.
There's nothing she can do but twitch and sob, twisting on the table she's been placed on.
Lucy can smell blood, the scent thick in the air, and she knows it's hers without having to look. She can practically feel it draining from her, slowly leaking from her insides and splattering across the floor. They're going to bleed her out. Lucy sobs and jerks, twitching. Warm hands settle on her arms, pushing her down, and she panics, imagining hands on her throat, her lungs collapsing as she's choked. Her nails rip across something warm and solid, connecting with flesh, and she's momentarily satisfied with the curse that flies from whoever she's hit.
It doesn't last for long. Her vision swims and Lucy is slowly consumed by fire. Black spots dot her vision, head lolling to one side and tears streaking down her cheeks. The fog from before comes back, pulling at her violently, ripping her back into the darkness. She tries to fight it, clawing and kicking, but her arms are forced against her sides, pinning her, though their grip is gentle, far too caring to be a strangers.
She catches sight of apologetic green eyes and knows it's Natsu above her. He looks down at her sadly, lower lip trembling slightly, his jaw locked so tight that his muscles are straining. He looks sick, hovering over her, his skin a shade paler than normal and his eyes alight with horror—shock. Two thin lines stretch across his cheek, blood beginning to dot the cuts.
They lock eyes for only a moment, and then the fight leaves her, the darkness coming up to swallow her whole.
The trees whisper amongst themselves in hushed tones, low, indistinguishable voices a hum in the silence of the night, echoing through the stillness of the forest. Their gnarled branches twist together like thorns—sharp, mangled, and bare of leaves—winding and curling overhead until the sky above is nearly blackened out by the copse of wicked spines, only thin slivers of the waning moonlight flickering through the bare trees, illuminating the thicket with pale light. A thick, rolling fog hangs low over the forest floor, twisting between the trees like ghosts and swirling around the prone figure lying in the dirt. A biting chill curls through the air, fallen leaves rustling as a breeze sweeps through the woods. The fog dampens the earth as shadows dance across the ground, the scent of rain heavy in the air.
She blinks slowly, her vision remaining blurry and unfocused as her gaze flickers around what she can see of the copse. She shifts, sending messy coils of blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and obstructing her vision as she slips in and out of focus. Blinking heavily, she stares at the trees, distorted oaks appearing as hazy figures in her vision—monsters slipping from the shadows and creeping closer with every breath.
She winces suddenly, groaning in pain as her forehead throbs, a sharp, stinging ache spreading through her entire head. Something slick slides down her temple, though she hardly notices, more interested in squinting at the shadows coming to life around her.
The trees begin to quiver, bending and leaning in every direction, almost as if they were dancing—trembling with fear of something she can't see. Her eyes slam shut once more, and she whimpers softly as the whispering gets louder. The voices grow closer and closer as the trees begin to shake violently, the wind picking up and whipping the dead leaves across the ground until they begin to swirl around her.
Her eyes snap open wide and the forest falls silent once more. The voices disappear and the leaves still—trees standing tall around her, as if they had never been moving to begin with. Her fingers twitch suddenly—scrapping across the ground almost violently as her nails sink into the fresh earth, rain still falling around her. Her eyes narrow in bewilderment as a phantom, icy finger runs along her spine, prickling the bare skin of her back as pale moonlight dances across her naked arms and shoulders, the ghost of a breeze making her shiver.
Holding her breath, she goes stock still, not daring to move as her fingers freeze against the wet ground. She peers through the curtain of hair falling in front of her eyes, heart beating out of control. Around her is nothing but naked trees winding high into the air, dead leaves littering the ground in warped shapes—nothing else in sight. Just dying trees and the fog curling around her frozen form.
A low, mournful sound splits the air, a single note that disappears as quickly as it came. The trees shriek suddenly, the thicket taking up the violent cry, roaring like a northern beast. Another hum, soft and sad, and the trees echo again. She twists to the side, a hand curled around her throat and squeezing—choking.
"—drowned lover—"
The sound is cut off, a sob building in her throat as she recognizes her mother's voice.
Around her the trees rattle, branches snapping together high above her head. She startles when a twig snaps in the darkness. Her mother keeps singing, and she forces herself to find the sound through the shrieking and snarling that's built up around her.
"—come home to me."
She drags herself across the wet earth, ignoring the mud and the rain, the screaming trees and the voice in her head telling her not to look.
The smell of blood hits her first, pungent and metallic, so strong that it makes her pause, bile rising into her throat as the smell attacks her senses. She swallows it back, a sick shuddery breath tearing from her as the smell curls around her, death hanging in the air.
At the edge of the copse, she forces herself to stand. Her lips twist into a grimace as she shifts her gaze around the thicket, squinting, eyes straining to see past the fog and branches, looking for anything that might tell her where she is. Being careful not to make a sound, she curls her arms closer to herself, flinching when a twig snaps beneath her, sounding all too loud in the darkness, even with the raging storm and the bloodcurdling screams. She releases a shuddery breath, lips quivering as she pushes up on her forearms, lifting herself just enough to raise her torso from the dirt. Her head snaps around once she does, dirty hair falling in her eyes, twigs and leaves twisted among the messy curls.
Her arms quiver beneath her as she shifts, settling onto her knees, then forces herself onto her feet, legs trembling so terribly she nearly crumples back to the forest floor, only staying upright by some miracle. Her jaw clenches tightly, teeth clanking together painfully as the aching worsens, a hiss escaping through her teeth before she can stop it.
A cackling sound reaches her, and suddenly she's standing at the edge of a clearing, watching as three men in golden armor prowl around a woman lying on the ground, snarling and snapping at her as she smiles back, singing a broken song that makes her soul ache.
The men attack at once, more beast than man, the trees shriek and cry, mourning as the woman is ripped into pieces. It happens slowly, a knife driven into her chest, the blade shinning silver for only a moment, and then just a spray of blood. So much blood.
They mangle her, tearing her apart until she's nothing more than a bloody streak against the wet grass. Still, she keeps singling. The woman's head drops to the side suddenly, bloody throat torn open wide and an eye hanging loosely from its socket. Her lips are twisted into a smile, blonde hair matted and dirty with blood and dirty.
Her mother's face—her face.
Her heart leaps into her throat, choking off the shriek bubbling in her chest. A strange gurgle is all that escapes her, foreign to her ears as it crawls from somewhere in the back of her throat—low and guttural, surprised. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth as she reflexively steps back, hitting a damp patch of grass as her dress tangles around her ankles like a malevolent hand. She crashes back to the forest floor, eyes slamming shut as the back of her head makes contact with the ground.
Her head snaps back up, and she meets a pair of eyes, glowing red in the darkness. She scrambles back on her hands, dragging herself away, but the monster only smiles, revealing sharp teeth and so much red that it spills over his lips and chin. Two more peer back at her.
They're all red.
They advance on her slowly, and when she blinks she finds herself far away, somewhere familiar but also not. Confusion floods through her, heart leaping into her throat as she glances around her with wild eyes, trying to remember how she got here and why they brought her.
Hot sand burns at her bare feet, and she quivers when she sees thousands of eyes staring down at her on all sides, watching and waiting, wanting for something, though she doesn't know what. They stare down at her, hungry, and she feels like curling into herself, disappearing, anything to hide from the monsters surrounding her.
She tries to take a step, but is yanked back. Spinning slowly, her gaze lands on a large, iron spike buried deep in the earth, a chain coiled across the ground, pulling taut when she tries to take a step. Her wrists are bound, she realizes belatedly, eyes widening in horror, though not by the chain. Simply rope is curled around her thin wrists, her arms more boney than she remembers them being.
An iron collar is curled around her throat and it burns, hotter than anything she's ever felt before. Her breath catches, a soft, choked sound spilling from her mouth, though it's swallowed by the sudden roar of the crowd, the sound deafening, maddening.
Her stomach twists sickly, bile rising in her throat, though she swallows it back, determined not to let her fear show. She's shaking, but only just so, not enough for anyone to notice unless they were close.
A skirt swirls around her ankles when she twists around, ivory and soft against her skin. It tangles around her legs, loose, and a breeze blows by, tickling the bare skin of her back. She frowns down at herself in confusion, but her attention is ripped away from the strange dress by a snarling sound, a roaring in her ears.
She whips around, dress billowing around her, and the sight before her shocks her. There's blood on the sand, so much blood that the ground is stained red, wet and sticky, clumped together. It clings to the edge of her dress, red soaking the fabric near the bottom, winding higher and higher on her skirt with each moment, the sand slick.
The crowd screams, cheers rising as the sound of violence splits the air, louder than anything she's ever heard before. It rings in her ears, echoing there, and she knows it's something she won't forget easily, the sound engrained in her mind for the rest of her days.
She knows where she is, though she's never seen it herself, only heard stories. The Domus Flau is just as she always imagined it would be. Beautifully crafted, the coliseum styled ring is made from marble, solid and expertly cut, nothing less for the wealthy spectators, the rich needing violence to quell the voids inside them, enjoying the misery of others. It's also just violent and disgusting as she guessed, with blood soaking every inch of the ground, the crowd jeering for more, elated with the spectacle of two young men killing each other for a sport they never wanted part in.
Two Berserks stand in the ring, a flurry of movement, the men so entangled and bloody that she can't see where one ends and the next begins. Blood is spilled across the ground, fresh and warm. It sinks into the sand, and the Berserks follow, one tackling the other to the ground. They snap and snarl at each other, drawing blood and leaving deep scars, breaking bones.
She tries not to watch, but she can't turn her eyes away. There's something horrible and fascinating about watching them fight, the raw power they hold is second to none, and there's a certain grace to the way they move, though it's masked by the carnage, the violence. They rip each other to pieces, leaving nothing left in their wake.
One of the Berserks goes down and he doesn't stand back up, body lying limp in the sand, life slowly draining from him. The crowd cheers, roaring for more, and the victor stands slowly, broad back facing her. He roars at the crowd, bloodlust shaking the arena. She tries to move, to run, knowing she's the only thing left to fight, but the chain holds her back and she falls to her knees, blood staining her skin.
She looks up to see familiar green eyes, a snarl twisting the Berserks features. Blood drips from his mouth, gaze far away, as if he doesn't see her, or maybe he simply doesn't care. Suddenly, his eyes meet hers, ice cold and sharp as a knife. It cuts through her, and she scrambles back, going as far as she can before the collar around her throat yanks her back.
The crowd screams and she murmurs his name.
He closes the distance between them, staring down at her for only a moment before strong fingers wrap around her neck and squeeze.
AN: As previously stated, I should be catching up with the rewrite by around this time next week, so new chapters will be starting soon.
Glossary of Gods/Terms/Creatures:
Djehl: Fire God from the northlands that granted the Berserks their strength/inner fire. His battle axe is called Bran.
Djerda: Goddess of night and the mother of Djehl.
Estra: Sister of Djehl and Daughter of Djerda. Goddess of the Stars. pulled the stars from the sky and gave them life, proving her devotion to Ieyar, a chaos god, and creating the Fae, their magic gifted to them by Ieyar.
Ieyar: God of Chaos. Gifted the Fae their magic after Estra pulled the stars from the sky for him.
Ashtacar: Berserker word meaning "safe travels." Traditionally used between friends and family, it has since become a way to honor the dead, granting them "safe travels" on their way to the next life.
Ulfræder: Berserk word for "blood traitor." It's a relatively heavy insult. Being a "blood traitor" is an unforgivable act.
Descæter: Berserk word for "deserter." Follows the same vein of Ulfræder, but is less insulting. Blood traitors abandon their homes and families, white a deserter abandons their post/army position.
Velsigna av Branna: Berserk word for "blessed by fire." As Vesigna means "to bless." "Branna" comes from "Bran (Braun)" an old word for fire, and the name of the God Djehl's battle axe.
Velsigna av Strakaz: "Blessed by Stars" From "Estra," a Berserk Goddess of the night sky, daughter of Djerda, Goddess of night, and sister to Djehl. Term for Faeborne and a reference to their scent.
Ellyra [El-eye-rah]: Formal name of the fairy trees. Rumored to house the souls of slain Fae within their trunks. The trees are semi-sentient, and can speak, though only to those who they want to hear. The trees are tall, with pale colored bark (white, to a light grey as the trees grow old) and red leaves. The trees bleed red sap, and in the Northlands they are commonly called Azgetta meaning "the bleeding" or alternatively "the weeping."