Writing Prompts Archive/9/Rowland Mason

*“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”*

*Nyx was greeted with a rude awakening as a tight grip*
pressed around his shoulders, shaking him violently. He would open his eyes
with a snarl, pushing his panicked guard away. His eyes locked onto the others,
letting his quiet rage seep into the mans’ soul “What did I tell you? I demand
privacy at night…If you’re going to stand guard do it outside.”

*“Ah b-but sir, you know someone is out to kill you! They*
could sneak in through the windows or…or…” the guard was attempting to stutter
an explanation out in his panic, but Nyx raised his hand in a silent command to
stop.

*“Our quarry cares not for stealth…they do not know where I*
even live, though if they did, rest assured you would not be able to stop them,
all would die save for a spare few of our best fighters…and me of course. So,
relax… and leave me to rest.”

*A bead of sweat drops from the guard’s brow and he would shakily*
kneel, bowing his head to his master. “Of course, …forgive me. But if that is
not what concerns you…then what is ailing you my lord? This appears to be a
recurring nightmare?”

*Nyx glares at the guard for a moment before letting a heavy*
breath escape from his lungs “As annoying as you are, you have proven a loyal
protector…” He’d wipe his face down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he’d
climb from the king sized four-poster bed, swiping a towel hanging overhead as
he’d clean the glistening sweat from his bare, muscular body. With a lazy
shuffle, Nyx would guide himself to a cabinet on the other side of the room,
opening its mahogany doors he would pluck a glass bottle and glass from its
shelves, pouring himself a helping of whiskey. Nyx would take a sip and clear
his throat, perching himself on the window ledge.

*“I stand there alone in a small village…buildings made from*
the scraps of the bare minimum…sticks, stone, straw…bat shit. Unbearable to
most but it is home. And it is beautiful…that sight…her hair, fair and flowing
on the gentle breeze, like golden water, her eyes glistening and blue, their
sparkling ocean vast enough for even the greatest sailor to lose themselves in.
Her skin snow-white, yet slightly freckled, like the delicate layer of snow and
autumnal debris at the chill start of winter. There she stands…under that apple
tree, in a sea of green grass and yellow flowers, surrounded by the starry
cosmos and yet, despite all that colour she is still the most radiant sight of
all, her smile breaking through the shadows of the night…I find myself shedding
a tear.” Nyx took another sip of his whiskey; his necklace clutched in his
palm, he picked at his lip with a sigh.

*“And then it begins. Paradise consumed. The land is torn*
asunder by raging winds, tempests fury shows no mercy as it swallows up soil
and flesh alike. I am taken in by the whirlwind and I try to scream, though
words nor breath can escape my throat. All falls dark and when I awake, I awake
to a sky filled with ash and a ground drenched with rivers of blood. The races
of men wage war around me, they are too distracted by their own greed and
gluttony to see the bigger threat at large. The last thing I see, as a cold
iron blade sinks In between my ribs is a purple blaze in the sky, lightning
surges through the land and it forces mankind to bend the knee, yielding to
what they believe the wrath of nature. When next I awake, we have not learned
anything. Further blood is spilled and I am surrounded by the banners of the
twelve…beside me is a child…he is crying, mourning over the mangled corpse of
his mother; I attempt to reach out, perhaps offer words of comfort, but upon my
touch…he crumbles to ash in my hands, revealing that womans
face…snow-white…freckled. I feel my very skin start to burn up, the closest
star in the heavens above ripe to burst with flame…I am…hungry, thirsty,
tired…and then am reduced to a lifeless husk, once more.”

*Nyx stares over at the guard, his eyes narrowed as he tries*
to gauge his reaction. It was as expected, confused, scared, though still
intrigued and eager to hear more.

*“It just keeps continuing that way…next is an eruption of*
force from the tip of a tower of crystal, it breaks the land, tearing it apart
like a heated blade through butter. I die again…and again…and again. When I am
finally getting used to it, the cold touch of death I am greeted with a new
disaster once again, the eternal ice that expanded and coated the land mocked
me, for now I could not tell where my life ends and my rebirth begins…it’s all
just…cold and torturous…I beg for it to end…and it does…for but a moment… a
torrent of water overtakes me and I am swept away, battered by the currents and
drowned by the unforgiving sea... This floating sensation, this wet liquid
touch on my skin, it vanished…and I look down in panic and what to do I see? I
am on the surface of the cracking red moon, over-looking once again the fires
of war…yet for once I see unison in mankind, a collective agreement. Because
they all run. They run and cling to life…WE run and cling to life…because once
the fear sets in, we realise just how fleeting our existence really is. The
dreadwyrms roar pierces through the smoky night as all is consumed by shadow
and flame…”

*Nyx downs the rest of his drink, his lip quivers as he*
presses his head against the window “Ah but the end is a plot twist, you know?
…I find myself suddenly back in that village, as reality ceases to be. And I
see her standing there, her golden hair, her ocean eyes, her wintery skin. And
it…is torn apart. While the world around me is calm, she is battered by
relentless winds, struck by all-mighty lightning, scorched by intense heat, her
skin cracks just like the quaking earth, before it turns blue and ice-cold to
the touch, she floats, the light on her skin bending and flowing as if shining
through flowing water…and finally she dissolves to ash, as she turns to me,
with that bright smile for one last time and melts into the wind…I can finally
speak. But all I can do is whimper and cry…I collapse into myself and shut my
eyes tight, bite my lip and cover my ears. I am finally free, though choose to
be trapped…yet this self-made darkness cannot even save me as my vision is
over-taken by a veritable tsunami of light and…”

*Nyx shrugs, placing his glass down with a heavy sigh. He*
would approach the guard slowly, flicking his forehead before sitting back on
the edge of the bed “That…is where it ends.”

*The guard clears his throat, shuffling over and sheepishly*
placing a comforting hand onto his master’s shoulder “Y-you’ve always been
a…bit of a history nut sir. Perhaps it is just a vivid nightmare, you know, because
of your…fascination?”

*Nyx does not react. He just sits there in silence for a few agonisingly*
long moments. Finally, he chuckles, brushing the hand away. “A nightmare you say.
No. You have got it all wrong. Every night, I experience the torment of this
vision. Every night I awake in a panic, to cold sweats and blurry vision. Yet
every night…I am grateful. Grateful for this…reminder.”

*Nyx was usually a quiet, calm, and somewhat caring*
commander. But for some reason, looking into those tired, determined eyes.
Those lifeless, uncaring beads. The guard felt fear.