Chaos Sky: Kill the Light

Within his dreams. He sees a field, a flat surface of golden grass. And a feeling as if he had been lying in that grass field for eternity. From where he was, the sun's light had begun to fade and the sky took a reddish tint.

There, just ahead of him, was the face of his mother who always held that ever loving smile, her skin as pale as the moon, and her face so familiar, yet so forlorn.

It felt nice seeing her like this. If only it could stay this way. He spoke no words, instead choosing to observe, taking it all in with his eyes alone. Her long silver hair cascading down, down, like a waterfall, or a wave.

She spoke very few words, as she always did. But all her words held a weight. It wasn't like any normal conversation one had between strangers. It was a story being told to him as a child, or a fantasy tale about princes and fairies. She said, "My son, why are you sad?" Her lips curved in such a way, her smile, was not that of a stranger, it was that of a friend or family, though, it seemed distant, far off.

He remained silent.

"Tell me, son, what has brought you down? How do you feel, so lost and unsure?" And then he smiled.

Her face, glowing in the darkness, looking at him as he drifted into the abyss.

"Is it I, you ask yourself?" she asked him, "You, do you love me enough?"

It seemed to go by so quickly.

As did the years of his childhood pass by.

Until one day, everything came to an end, and she disappeared.

"Or is it that you, that I do not love enough?"

Though it didn't appear so, that day had left a lasting impression upon him. One he never felt in all his life. He spoke not the words that he loved. Only the sorrow and grief that remained afterwards.

"So many things," he muttered, "Too many to even begin."

Her tears rolling down her cheeks, falling upon his heart. "Then we should begin. That way. There's no need to continue this madness, there's no need to hate the world around you, I'm here now, son."

Her smile returning to its natural beauty, like she used to have. She came towards him, and sat down, right before him. A feeling of sorrow and guilt flooded through his veins. This wasn't the same as before, his pain and hatred vanished. Maybe, everything has been okay, or maybe it wasn't so bad, all that happened and didn't happen in the end.

He heard her, his heart beating strongly against his chest, and his fists clenching at the mere mention of her voice. What is it to love your family? Is it the bond one shares with another, or is it simply a feeling one may express without a second thought? He had never understood why she would do such a thing. And no matter how hard he had tried to find a reason, he could not.

Too far misplaced from human contact, this, the distance, and everything else.

"Mother." He raised his hand and wiped her tears off her face, as his cheeks wet with his own. Her hands, warm, caressing his hand softly, they felt more human, warmer.

"Why, mother?" He fell to his knees.

"Why what?"

"Why did I kill her?"

"I don't know. What was her name?"

"His daughter... she... she was-"

"My son, why would I think you killed her? Don't tell me, that this is something that happened a very long time ago?" She lowered her head.

The wind seemed to pick up its pace. His mother embraced him in her arms. Her arms are his cocoon. Her arms enveloping him like a pair of wings. The warmth. So warm and soft. A comforting embrace.

And now he knows. There's a point where pain ends. It comes sooner or later. Wrapping his arms around her, he felt all his regrets fall away, just as easily as a simple dream could take away a single emotion. Just as his fears faded away.

The scenario was short and yet so long.

"Why did you leave, mother? Why did you?" He felt his eyes well up in tears. She placed her hand on his cheek, wiping away the tear stains and turning them to the horizon.

"Because you, dear, have yet to learn." The sadness in her voice. He couldn't bear it. And before he realized it, the words he wanted to speak, became a distant and long forgotten memory.

Reality, its a strange thing. With a smile, it always wants to seem friendly and caring, while others just want to laugh and forget. It was always hard trying to decide between right and wrong. But these thoughts and feelings that he has kept locked away were the ones that kept him from speaking a single word of apology. The most powerful things in life always came down to the smallest things.

To not love your family. To not appreciate your friends. Those are all things we take for granted every time.

What is there now to say to her when he did the opposite? Nothing really. Nothing could be said or done. Not after what he had done to his life. To the people who had given so much.

Yet, that time he could not see himself clearly.

Awakening in an uncomfortable silence. Witnessing a place filled with nothing, there is no world and there are no lights. A void, the darkness itself. Within, lay a dream. In its centre, a great glowing star shone bright against the heavens.

That much was an exaggeration. It was simply dark and the candles were off. He was in a certain inn in Eskras main town, where Alice had shown him. Laz, on the other hand, he couldn't really tell what he had been dreaming about. He recalled bits and pieces, a war, a man, and now the memories are completely shattered.

Well, either way, a dream is but a dream. Not his. Nor a single soul's. They're just not real, there isn't a single thing out there, out in those places, that exists.

Everything, those who are seen, and those who have never met, are just memories, even his memories and his emotions. His emotions, are still him. They are there, even when he is dead. But now, he is nothing, emotionless, a husk with nothing to its name but a command and a will.

Alice laid there in bed, next to him, motionless and breathing slow and heavily, her chest moving up and down as the sounds of the busy city could be heard through their window. She was still asleep. What made it worse was having to share a bed, although Zabulus only slept for 2 hours at a time, humans such as Laz and Alice slept for 8 or more.

He was waiting for her, it's almost been an hour, maybe. No, definitely.

'Laz,' he asked, 'do you feel tired?'

"Who's talking to me?" He asked, panicked and scared.

'Laz, please...'

"Leave me alone! You can't take anything away from me."

'It is quite alright, now, let us talk, shall we?'

"Huh... yeah, fine..."

He was as easy as a child.

The voice, it wasn't clear where it was coming from, so he was hesitant, but eventually he answered, "Sure..."

'How are you feeling?'

"Ugh," He groaned, turning his head slightly so that he could stare straight at Alice. "I don't know... I-I don't know what this place is or... where am I? Where's my wife!? I'm- She needs me!" But as easy as he was, it was just as hard to explain things to him.

"Laz, can you hear me?" The voice asked.

"Where's my wife!?" He demanded, "She's always here, with us! That woman, is... is she my wife?"

Zabulus sighed heavily, 'Just... try to keep calm for a little bit more. But no. That's a friend of mine.'

"Are... are you the one in charge of that corpse?" He suddenly asked.

A strange question, given Zabulus' recent possession and control. He never knew such a thing was possible. Then again, his possession and control weren't that high, to begin with. '...Yes.' Would this now convince the man? Surely not, Zabulus thought.

"I see," Laz began. "Tell me, can I go back to where she is? Please. I need my wife."

'Who... is your wife?'

"No, she-you, no! You took her away didn't you!?" Laz stood up and began to threaten Zabulus.

'Do not dare, human, I will remove all traces of your soul in this vessel and I'll ensure not a trace of your memories and emotions remain.'

"Why not tell me! Tell me, please!"

Zabulus simply gave him a face of disinterest, a gaze of indifference. Laz slowly broke down into tears and soon, began to wail and sob loudly, as if he had heard the worst possible news and was crushed by the weight of it. This had been the daily occurrance for the past week as they traveled to the biggest town in Eskra; Airenis.

He left the sobbing Laz and the sleeping Alice and went down the stairs into the reception desk of the inn, the sound of the patrons enjoying their breakfast was drowned out by the gentle din and clatter coming from the dining hall.

Before arriving at the entrance, he turned his head to the reception.

He opened the door and took in the fresh breeze outside, before shutting it.

The world itself appeared brighter and warmer than what it was an hour ago, even at this hour. It would soon be sunrise.

The trees swayed gently, and the grass danced to the song the wind brought. The air smelled fresher, cleaner. It seemed surreal to even describe. And the sun rose slowly above the horizon, illuminating the world.

The streets were filled with laughter and merriment, for they were celebrating. Zabulus couldn't see this because he had been busy. After all, why would they even celebrate? Even he couldn't figure it out, seeing as they were the cause for the great tragedy that they let occur as if it was nothing.

"Hah... ha... haha." He could only laugh. "Ahah, the end of the world. Isn't it beautiful?" The streets were decorated with flowers of every shade, and red was the one they chose the most.

Red, a color associated by them with love.

Why not white or yellow or even blue? Why? For, isn't this meant to be their final celebration? How ironic. And so, this morning he woke to the sight of a town filled with happy faces and laughter. Red was meant to be the color of blood. So why use it instead? Why are they acting so jovial, as if it was meant for them?

The crowds went silent as the last notes of the instruments and lutes died away. He followed the flow of the people and ended up outside the city wall. Before long, everyone there stood around the now broken monument. Its base smashed into fragments of rock.

A crowd of mourners. Their tears dripping from their eyes as they bowed to the ground. It was animalistic behavior, even animals wouldn't bow down like this in front of their own creator. Their headmaster, their teacher, their father. This was supposed to be a prayer towards God and now here they were praying to something so ungodly and distorted.

A monument of the void in blue, or so it's known, a deep and dark color, it's texture so smooth and strong. Some of them have even taken their life by drowning or cutting their neck. He couldn't figure it out, their minds had been messed up beyond repair, beyond help.

He walked towards one of the bowing and mourning people, and sat in front of them and observed for some time, the way their faces would contort into sorrow and pain. It was a disgusting sight, he thought. Extending his hand to their dome, and gently squeezing their cranium, his fingers sinking into their flesh. The muscles tensing up, and a wet splurt echoed through his ears. His nail pierced through their head, and as they screamed in agony, the past became the present.

A memory of a dying woman, being left by his lover, betting money on a poor girls future, betting lives on his pride, taking him in for food and shelter, living alone in a deserted camp. A living body, Dead? In his heart beat no longer and no longer does he draw breath of his own, but as a command to live.

'Soar, oh Angel.'

And, in a second, he went from a mournful, ugly crying man, to an emotionless being who stood in the center.

But regardless of his presence, no one else moved and inch. This fact alone is just absurd. The man who fell, would always stand back up, without hesitation. That is the story behind all great men.

"The land of Eskra... this can serve a purpose to myself. An unfinished dream, I say... aye, aye... unfinished dreams are but a sorrow, filled with great and noble hearts, aren't they?" Then again, what was it that drew him to this realm, that fateful day where he lost his soul?

He had yet the answer that eludes him still.

But for now, his goal was simple. To return to his construct, his castle in the sky. And in the days ahead of him.

A reason is sure to present itself,

Or maybe, just maybe, he could continue to dream forever, if he keeps searching and searching.

Another victim lay, on the floor, though he couldn't recognize them nor could he figure out why someone would do such a thing, still, that man's memories were a little unclear, a little jumbled and tangled up, as they were more or less put in the mind of a 6 year old child.

That said, there was something more pressing and urgent about the whole situation, that he couldn't help but wonder about, what sort of ritualistic behavior was this? And why do they praise this void so much? There must have been a better place to do this other than outside the city-town walls, his hands trembled with excitement, all he needed was to follow their actions, that's how these humans operated.

"Fuck off." The man whom he was looking at said.

'Now isn't that funny...' Zabulus thought, 'Aren't you here to pray to a concept, a place? This is clearly a sign and proof that you want your words to be heard... by who... no, by what? Your god, perhaps? What god is this, my good man. Is he strong, is he fair?' His thoughts reached the man as he mouthed the words silently.

"Please... my prayers are nothing. Please, let them hear me."

A grin slowly appeared on the man's face, then with his hands clenched into fists, he pressed them tightly together and brought his elbows to his stomach.

"There is a reason and a purpose, let this message be known!"

At that moment, he saw the world lighten in the morning sky, and for a second he could swear he saw something watching, or were those his eyes playing tricks.

"O Scribes of Eskra! Grant me audience!"

Then he could feel the vibrations of the ground, the vibrations of an intense force, as if he were underwater, holding his breath, afraid and excited. But why was the air thickening around him, why, indeed, was the energy coming from his veins?

"Look... you idiot..."

"You're... one to... talk..." The man said weakly.

And a bright ray of sunlight shone over him, bathing everything around him in its brilliant light, and Zabulus felt an intense power rush through him as he stood atop the roof of a large building.

And after some time, what had happened just registered, he felt himself getting a bit dizzy and started swaying. The wind was strong here, stronger than before. Stronger, perhaps, than any storm or gale could achieve.

The man was behind him, holding his arms out with his palms facing each other, breathing heavily. His whole body was trembling.

"It seems... the gods... did hear me," he panted between breaths, "huh?"

"What?" Zabulus turned around, confused. "You're a fool." He said with a weak tone of voice, a faint hint of amusement in it, "They won't save anyone."

"Don't insult my gods... they've granted me this gift, the power to distort the land and its sky. The strength, to make them suffer and beg." His voice, once monotone and without inflection, suddenly went low and menacing.

"Oh? You're a fun one, I guess." Zabulus mused.

He wanted more of him, the sounds of his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he spoke those words, all the signs pointed towards a strong man, he believed.

"Fun? Heh, funny, real funny... but tell me, where will you start? Which city will you destroy first? Ha-ha-ha! Don't tell me, are you just going to attack everyone right now?"

Zabulus rolled his eyes.

He's always known that humans had always been obsessed with a great many things and often placed themselves at the centre of such obsessions, and many times over, it would make others and their ideas a thing of envy.

"Hmm? Oh, right. No." Zabulus took his steps, walking away from the man.

The city grew and expanded rapidly, houses, buildings, shops, taverns, they're all there.

The sight before him is amazing, all this, built within less than 2 weeks.

The man's expression grew infuriated, "Ah! The Great Plan will become the final straw!"

The air grew thick and tense with some sort of energy.

"Why are you attacking? Is it your ego that will lead to your doom, human?" Zabulus asked calmly, feeling no real emotion whatsoever.

His mind began to wander. Would that human ever get to the end of his dream, and could his god ever help him complete the Great Plan? Probably not, gods are cruel and useless, after all.

"You... your kind, born as Demons, yet you play the part of human? I've seen what you did to that man. That demon magic... whatever the fuck it is, that thing called 'Phantom,' that guy who wields the dark blade. You killed him, huh... and those screams..."

"Yeeaahhh," Zabulus chuckled softly, "I don't know who you're on about, so, leave me alone, would you?" Though Zabulus didn't intend to leave a man like this alone, he simply attempted to de-escalate the situation.

The wind slowed and the air cleared, leaving the scene eerily silent.

Zabulus, whose hands rested at his sides, clenched and relaxed his fists, his fingers twitching slightly.

"Those four hands of yours... just how much blood does a creature like you have in them, demon? I know for certain that you killed him... all the times you've betrayed, murdered and stolen, there was a lot. You will all pay, oh yes. Yes you will."

As if an invisible force pushed him backwards, Zabulus, staggering, was sent flying through the roof, sliding across the tiles until his back was pressed against the chimney. He raised his head from between his knees and rubbed his throat gently with the back of his hand, which stung painfully.

The chimney was cracked slightly in the collision, but besides a little dust and a slight mark, his throat had barely moved.

He slowly approached, walking at a pace he found fitting.

"Your god. Is he really so great that it would grant you immortality? Would he give you such a thing?" Zabulus inquired, smiling mischievously, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He noticed the man's hesitation, as he was lost for words, he chuckled quietly, enjoying it.

"No... no, he would not. Mortality is a humans greatest weakness... and his strength, but I wouldn't know, it's what the rumors say..." He lowered his head.

The air around the two became warmer and stifled. It was too hot to move anymore, yet not hot enough to sweat.

"Yeah. So, when's your friend going to wake up?"

Zabulus knew Laz was here, of course he did. His power, he'd only borrowed a fraction of Laz's presence for a little, since there was only a slight trace of life inside of him, nothing worth using too much though.

Before the man could attack once again, Zabulus asked Laz, "Has she woken up?"

Laz responded in a voice akin to a whisper, "Yes, a few minutes ago... She, she... was crying when she did..."

"How pathetic, no?"

"No."

"Good. Because your entire kind, every last human being, is nothing more than an infantile imitation of a lifeform. Just waiting for the next god or demon to come along, and take your place. Your precious Creator gave you so little to go with, so why not start creating yourself? How pointless you must be, isn't it?"

"ENOUGH!" The man who was listening in, couldn't take it anymore.

"Serves you right, gods bitch-boy." Zabulus snarked.

The air around them seemed to have thickened in anger. The sounds of footsteps approached from beyond the horizon, it was a multitude of people, wearing some sort of heavy armor, swords held out in front.

"Leave her out of this. Please..." Laz begged, crying softly.

'How sickening. Even his pitiful soul cries over someone... disgusting. But... if I can control him with just an order, what other emotions will he give me? Is there anything left to give?'

"Very well. And in the case, that he decides to interfere, what would I do if my body were destroyed?"

Laz answered quickly, "You would return to me, I'll make a home in that void and return to my land, where I was meant to reside with the others."

"Let it be so, Laz, then it shall not bother me." He spoke in a tone that made him feel like a greater being.

A moment later, Laz would notice the armed men quickly surrounding the building. They're wearing metal masks and were heavily armored, all carrying sharp weapons of various types.

"O-oh..."

Drip...Drip...Drip...

In the face of conflict, once again, Laz had urinated himself.