Merlin - 27 A Light in a Darkened World
The suns that drift timed elliptical are revolving and one around the other, but for now in a battle beneath the darkness. Fields of solitude in good company with every creature of their dark realm, in arrangement with comfort travelers four have left their slumber to enjoy all the luxuries and happiness of their world. In cherished paradise, the young master Troy has aged three layers of winter leaves, his formative companion the phoenix, has grown to formidable size, though on rare occasion it may leave ice behind in mysterious mischief. Its stock is now the size to ride, it happens to looks like an adolescent on the back of a bear or griffin, or both. Heavenly boons to the affectionate, Nickolas and Ana and the lost art of keeping a secret coincide with every aspiration, in sound health, as Nickolas would wrestle wild dogs if needed be they the meal. Beauty, as Ana is a vision reflection blinding for both herself and her consort, wealth as the prosperity of magic and good fortune, gifted wisdom and benefice of repute with spiritual peace their shared emotions.
A dwelling place where many make stead, Merlin and his fellows could be resilient to the most inhospitable of climes, at this the current world heeds to provoke their temperance, as the suns hide on the other side of the world the forest night grows terrible cold ushering wolves and bats on the dales and vales surrounded by silhouette forest. With the introduction of a sharp temperature comes also the discovery of a road, with little to urge them into the dank forest they trace the path of many wagons past. Aware of the need of a house in order to avoid such troubles, on such ground along the way an ancient house antiquity waits alone and dark in fading moonlight, a dozen leagues from the crooked crossroad signs. Welcome from the innate house, life behind shadow watches them traverse the lane, as the house grows in size visually during their approach to the height of an average cairn. A light softly emanates, only briefly as the light blasts from the house loudly passing through the stovepipe, windows and cracks, with a passing cloud of glowing white luster washing and waking into the wood, an effluent commotion that stirs the mist before them. A shade well fortified by amnesty’s dying art of inception darkness, from the second story window a flash, outside horizons of chaos, the suns hiding below the edge if not dead beyond the visible boundary of the plain and Merlin and his aspirant allies temporarily blinded.
The endless forest absorbs the light like abstract art and the stirred leaves hang calmly again. Driven by mere curiosity their need of a house in order to avoid troubles with new solace Merlin proceeds with leading step and pace, to investigate monition and spiritual peace, with this aim in his mind, he sets out in search of the learned wise persons who can guide him through auspicious time and knowledge. Understanding the nature of his rationale, passing over the water on the grass and cold air of a natural environment, he seeks a plot of his own interests and effigy. Creeping death seeps from beneath flaking paint that hangs in places and edges and sounds of persons living none, a shadow into nearby silence watches a dark abode and confined shadows.
Merlin: “Nickolas, follow closely.”
Nickolas looks into the dark house and nods his head in agreement. Thin lines of light no stronger than hair and louder than a match course from Merlin's wrist to his finger tips, a torch of moonlight reflection with deciduous caution, as with every creaking floorboard the glimmer dims. Cold night shadow and graceless clouds give way to astrological glory, familiar light passes over shadows while the furniture creates others in the satellite movements. From just outside the door, Ana puts her hand on her chest and points aside with the other hand as she begins walking around the edifice as the young incendiary squire shivers the night air upon animal that clods dirt from talon craw.
Nickolas: “Fate favors the prepared.”
Merlin: “You're one to talk.”
At the staircase Merlin points to the second floor, examining the artwork Nickolas discards effort and interest of such liturgy and leads way to the upper study. In isolation doom, they find a martyr lifeless, surrounded by the blood of the scribe. Outside Ana has circled once over and found nothing with seeming disappointment with a troubled straddled Troy not far behind each step.
Ana: “Well...the farce outside is over...”
She climbs through the window where she stands, leaving the boy and his bird in added confusion. A dying snake murdering itself by consumption adorns bound to the cover of a leather book. Opening the latch to the side of the bound volume, she queries the pages as worlds collide. Adrift the smell of blood invites the hungering demons, in the absence of light blood is the source of life, from scent vampires drift upon the house to feed and plague.
Merlin: “We must spend our time here; I'll meet you down stairs.”
Merlin looks over the scene, rancid parity and livid dream, stained credulity a sin for every ill and a pox on will, the balance of power mangled in a twist of fate and disconnected symbols of disorder. In the window perches the banished vampire princess staring at the blood of the floor thereon more than concerning Merlin's defensibility.
Thinly veiled curtains veiling sway in the window from the breeze in the bathing moonlight. Tandem they notice the blood on painted pictures, she looks around the curtain but Merlin does not notice her, he is keen on a diamond lying on the table, he can however and does notice the portion of her that leans out from the curtain, blind behind the screen, to his amazement. The spattering is on the tarot cards and still dripping from fingertips shines in the moonlight by her feet.
Blond: “It's in the cards.”
Merlin looks over the cards, five cards displayed on lines pentagram encircled, a magician, a man hanged, lovers, the star, and death cards lay strewn.
Blond: “Tarot cards…”
Merlin: “Why did you do this?”
Blond: “And leave all of this.”
Brunet: “And where is the assassin?”
Dark tranquility lays on their stoic emotion as they stare blankly at Merlin.
Merlin: “I can hardly wait to leave this place.”
Blond: “Was he one of you?”
Merlin: “No, I’m passerby.”
Brunet: “You heard the blast.”
Merlin: “Saw it…a splendid wash, like The Waters of Avalon…made of the mist.”
The vampires look to each other a silent pause that could be more than meets the eye, the male vampire looks to Merlin thereafter so does she. A place where there is no warmth or hatred, only unfaithful wrath and missing servility. The price of existence pale white with white hair, tan leather clothes trending trench coat, not well dressed for camouflage in a mourning palace but well equipped for combat. She drifts, not stepping in the blood, whole body intact as Merlin finishes with searching the desk, becomes disenchanted by the blood.
Merlin: “Dare I ask where the others are?”
Brunet: “Do you speak of kith or kin?”
Merlin: “Either perhaps, but I speak of my partisans beneath us.”
Blond: “They are tranquilly below.”
Merlin: “If you'll excuse me then, I’m needed elsewhere.”
Merlin's eyes become white as he takes the bottle of wine and the clear mirror stone, a book in one hand and the clouded glass bottle with polished symbols cradled in the same arm, the valuable shard already hidden.
Blond: “We'll just be a minute.”
He steps into the hallway as the black haired debonair vampire in a new costume slides for to close the door behind him, he glances in one last time to see her quite nearly hovering over the crimson pool smelling it's fervent aroma with a look of relief, she looks up again to Merlin as the other closes the door.
Downstairs with one hand in the lap of her garment and the other to turn the book of archaic intricate patterns of madness, control with bends to test the papers age before another flip through lost unknown engrossing criterion.
Nickolas: “What is it?”
Ana: “It is a fortune in forgotten language.”
Nickolas: “what does it say?” peeking over her shoulder.
Ana: “Mostly ranting madness, a soliloquy.” her fingers trace the dead Viking language, “a wild and haunted house of solace without a key...chaos”
Outside Troy argues with the phoenix, the disagreement is with both that he should not enter the house and every instance that he tries, the phoenix bites his collar and pulls him back out again, to the point where the bird is at odds between him and the doorway. Eventually he reroutes and enters through the window leaving the bird to stare inward and give a sardonic squawk.
Troy: “What say you of chaos?” Troy dusts himself.
Merlin: “Read the back pages.” Merlin himself enters but from the stairs.
Ana: “He was close to a cure to break translation?”
Merlin: “That is, a curse.”
Ana: “This makes no sense. Come look at this brother.”
For the first time in her endeavor to read the dusty old book she breaks he patient stare and looks to Merlin. He slowly looks over the pages, he stops and tips back the bottle top, his old face youthful requited.
Merlin: “He was given a curse of the mind and he wants to find The Ouroboros Star.”
Ana: “That makes sense.” She closes the book to show Merlin the cover.
Troy: “I don't understand.”
Nickolas: “He had sought a star, what not, having to do with that serpent.”
Merlin: “In the order of discovering the body in elegy...I was met by two vampires.”
Merlin takes another drink, hands the bottle to Nickolas, and takes a seat without crossing the distance. A twist of a wick on a nearly finished candle begins a small flame as he opens a script taken from the room upstairs.
Ana: “Are you kidding?”
Troy: “What do you mean vampires?”
Blond stands somber and relic in the doorway, an ancient of evil mystery and as silent, Nickolas stares at the ceiling and back to Merlin trying to pass the bottle off again with no open hand of retrieval.
Blond: “We would like to stay here in case the folk come, to seem human for a night.”
Brunet: “The night is cold and dreadfully damp.”
Brunet sits in the windowsill as if it were a chair, one knee bent with foot against the frame, the other leg straight at the knee keeping him ballast within the room, his hand laden on the phoenix's head which went with well acceptance, with the exception of Troy who flustered approaches the window.
Merlin: “There seems to be enough room for all of us to share the fire.”
As soon as Merlin mentions it, the fireplace ignites and everyone begins to get comfortable. The exiled vampire princess tells them of the things she has expert and her grief upon forsaken outcast, trading stories and sharing secrets of an expatriated vampire monarchy. Ana patience with Nickolas, teaches him to read the archaic language, and the fireside chats parse the evening tearing tales from the tome and making sense of them, yet the whole night Merlin carries fascination with his new diamond the size of an apple and suspiciously watching the vampires.
Outside the chimera has waited, waited for them to run tell of the grave misfortune to the nearest law or fearless horde. Camouflaged with the darkness in the wilderness, slipping like whisper behind the fire sight phoenix it watches the old house, spying from vied meandering position to take notice of how many fortify the compound, as a pacing Phoenix walks sentry gnawing on fences and stump easily tearing away bark to keep its luster at a powerfully dim glow. Pointedly adjacent with stern focus a prying malicious staring at open windows it catches sight of Merlin spinning the diamond in his hand and becomes locked in gesture, frozen in contrivance hatred and vengeance explored. Carve hatred in allotted directive, the demon bleeds on his face to see, its anger may protest to conflict be, it dares to notably comport tyrannical pride as he confirms Merlin's reality. Lethal on the verge of haste endures rapture and frenetically schemes malicious plot.
The fresh air reaches across the plains, as overly efficient as the long night, but the darkness separates from the soil and the morning is the time of spring. Still ever as dusk, the black sky becomes dying blue and the starlight horizon holds strong in the hearth of the stratum, they walk pardon in brisk air the vampires disparate echo silence and stare at the roots beyond the clearing ready to vanish at the first sign of light. As they move, she moves quickly alongside them on the blind side without them noticing. The wind a solitary noise they turn to witness gust but unbeknown, as they turn back she is in front of them. Troy is heavily amused and the others startled holding challenge to desperate trust, behaved they still portend nether realm faction.
The vampires walk and glide, the exiled princess of the dark afterlife sways in random directions at times as if drifts about tossed by the wind. Maybe running the ground behind her cloak, possibly stepping on the fabric of her wears, she stammers at fault, the staggers of both vampire become lurches, their feet forced to the ground eventually burdened to a sluggish sorrowed crawl from unsympathetic inhibition. The promiscuous bloodletting sacrifice full of poison takes a wicked damnation of their survival. Professed pain the sight at the tears of blood, no less than plague causing minute stigmata. Possessed and full of venom, the chimera meditates seditious malice over cupped talon hands filled with cursed glowing runes and chants a spell. The symbols of the stones begin to glow of violent possession an echo in the dark. Merlin walks with the diamond in levitation and mystical revolution, as he attends to their wayside he relinquishes control of the crystal, but its song remains the same. The poison blinds and fevers them, their visions prophetic of the sun. The benefice of a spinning diamond in thin air is a single sound, a solemn note, a sultry confusion. The angry warlock reaches peak hatred and dark story a death toll to wonder without aptly wit, the diamond will not halt or hold it begins to rupture, in the edges of ill vision dark edges and a glowing light a burgeoning fracture until the diamond suddenly bursts.