Post by Lord Rand al'Thor on Jan 30, 2006 18:12:17 GMT -5
The moon was of size and color he never seen before in his long life, the giant sphere covered more then half of the blacker then night sky, casting it's strange red glow on the earth. Long shadows strenchted across the land, shadows darker then he ever thought they could be. The rotting stench of death and decay hung in the air, where ever this was, it was surly the closest thing to Hell he thought there could be in this land. A vast forest stood in front of him, the trunks gnarled by time, the limps, the tree's long arms reached out for anything it could grasp with leafless fingers. There was no wind, no cool breeze to take the smell of evil away, there was no life in this place.
The longer he was here, the more the fear started to fill him, not a fear he could just surpress and push down, no, this was something he had not felt in a very long time. Something was wrong, he had to go. A cold sweat came across him, his mouth went dry, this wasn't right. Flee his mind yelled inside him, Flee now! He was just about to, half turned to run before he saw in the blood red light would stood in front of him, a grave stone, a small stone slab sticking out of the ground. There was no name, nothing to say who it belonged to, but he couldn't take his eyes away from it, on the stone's smooth face, was the burnt from of a cross, the ancient Crest of his people, the Crest of the Lirin. His hand went to the small golden chain around his neck, his fingers went over the small silver charm, a cross. It was something he hide from everybody.
Suddently, the ground in front of him, the grave erupted, throwing up the dirt and the rock, and him into the air. The force of it reverberated through him, knocking him back against the trunk of a tree. He fell to his knees, his ears filled with the ringing, his gut feared with fear, sapping his strenght, something was here. He looked up, only to see someone standing behind the now open grave, a tall man covered in darkness, he couldn't make out the man's face, but could see his red eyes, scarlet pools split by a thin black line, his body shrouded in a black cloat, long dark hair that touched the ground. If fear touched him before, it gripped him now. "Cross," the monster of his nightmares. He wanted to move, he wanted to run but he knew he couldn't. This is was one thing he could never fight against, and he knew that this man was going to be the cause of his death. Then he was lifted up off the ground, the trees themselves had betrayed him, there long limbs wrapping them around his arms and raising him up. Why can't I scream!? The thought filled his mind. Branchs took his head in there hold and forced him too look into the grave, a small wooden coffin showing in the moon light. On it's lid, was another burn showing the Crest of the Lirin, still smoldering with ash. He risked a glance at Cross, the man's own necklace was showing, the Crest hanging from the chain.
And the coffin blew it's self apart. It seemed the world slowed down, shards of the casket filled the air, the wooden splinteres burying themselves in his skin, he still didn't scream, nor put anythought to the warm feeling of blood that now soaked him. The two men were not alone anymore, someone stood in the grave, naked except for the shadow. He wanted to die. The thing that was in the grave rushed forward and it's cold fingers wrapped around his throat. All he could see was the boy's face, it was a boy, no older then seventeen or so, but with eye's like Cross'es, eye's like the Devil. He could hear Cross laughing behind the boy, a cold deep laugh. The Boy looked up, exposing his short dark hair and tanned skin, his lips curled as he spoke, "Hello father."
He found his voice right before his son's arm's buried itself within his chest...
.................................................
Rand awoke from the nightmare with a scream. His breath caught and his body froze as the realization of it was all a dream came over him. That he was no long by the grave but back in Yew, under one of her large trees, with the cool breeze on his face. He sat back down in the grass, wipeing away the sweat on his forehead. He kept telling himself it was just a dream, but he felt his heart just to make sure that there was no hole there. "Just a dream Rand, just a dream"...
The longer he was here, the more the fear started to fill him, not a fear he could just surpress and push down, no, this was something he had not felt in a very long time. Something was wrong, he had to go. A cold sweat came across him, his mouth went dry, this wasn't right. Flee his mind yelled inside him, Flee now! He was just about to, half turned to run before he saw in the blood red light would stood in front of him, a grave stone, a small stone slab sticking out of the ground. There was no name, nothing to say who it belonged to, but he couldn't take his eyes away from it, on the stone's smooth face, was the burnt from of a cross, the ancient Crest of his people, the Crest of the Lirin. His hand went to the small golden chain around his neck, his fingers went over the small silver charm, a cross. It was something he hide from everybody.
Suddently, the ground in front of him, the grave erupted, throwing up the dirt and the rock, and him into the air. The force of it reverberated through him, knocking him back against the trunk of a tree. He fell to his knees, his ears filled with the ringing, his gut feared with fear, sapping his strenght, something was here. He looked up, only to see someone standing behind the now open grave, a tall man covered in darkness, he couldn't make out the man's face, but could see his red eyes, scarlet pools split by a thin black line, his body shrouded in a black cloat, long dark hair that touched the ground. If fear touched him before, it gripped him now. "Cross," the monster of his nightmares. He wanted to move, he wanted to run but he knew he couldn't. This is was one thing he could never fight against, and he knew that this man was going to be the cause of his death. Then he was lifted up off the ground, the trees themselves had betrayed him, there long limbs wrapping them around his arms and raising him up. Why can't I scream!? The thought filled his mind. Branchs took his head in there hold and forced him too look into the grave, a small wooden coffin showing in the moon light. On it's lid, was another burn showing the Crest of the Lirin, still smoldering with ash. He risked a glance at Cross, the man's own necklace was showing, the Crest hanging from the chain.
And the coffin blew it's self apart. It seemed the world slowed down, shards of the casket filled the air, the wooden splinteres burying themselves in his skin, he still didn't scream, nor put anythought to the warm feeling of blood that now soaked him. The two men were not alone anymore, someone stood in the grave, naked except for the shadow. He wanted to die. The thing that was in the grave rushed forward and it's cold fingers wrapped around his throat. All he could see was the boy's face, it was a boy, no older then seventeen or so, but with eye's like Cross'es, eye's like the Devil. He could hear Cross laughing behind the boy, a cold deep laugh. The Boy looked up, exposing his short dark hair and tanned skin, his lips curled as he spoke, "Hello father."
He found his voice right before his son's arm's buried itself within his chest...
.................................................
Rand awoke from the nightmare with a scream. His breath caught and his body froze as the realization of it was all a dream came over him. That he was no long by the grave but back in Yew, under one of her large trees, with the cool breeze on his face. He sat back down in the grass, wipeing away the sweat on his forehead. He kept telling himself it was just a dream, but he felt his heart just to make sure that there was no hole there. "Just a dream Rand, just a dream"...
