Black Star (A Finish The Story Contest Entry)

Opening by @f3nix

And finally dawn came, mercilessly, to reveal the blasphemous massacre of that night. The sulphur smell of the Flaegreian fields was mixed with that of the blood and entrails, while clots of death, horribly coagulated one with the other, slowly melted inside the iridescent pools of acid water. There was no honour of weapons for the vanquished, whose remains were hideously smeared on the battlefield.

Instead, something else was crawling in that silent scene: the unnatural profanity of a rape, far beyond the concept of victory of one army over the other. It was as if the ground, pierced by fumaroles and teeming with mutilated bodies, wanted to shout to the sky a silent cry of faltering horror.

From the piles of corrupt meat, a black pillar emerged in the middle of the plain. An invisible and incandescent flame was emanating from that dark mountain, making the landscape all around tremulous due to the intense heat.

"I brought you some wine, Xarag." The man in armour approached cautiously to the black and immobile human tower.
"I do not find it right that you have to stay still for all this time instead of celebrating ..".

"Tell me you did not come alone just with that nauseating spicy wine." Glaring through the black metal of the helmet, the paladin abruptly interrupted the officer.

"I also have the serum, Xarag. Our queen never forgets the needs of her most valiant servants"

"Oh yes, she's always so thoughtful". The sudden pain obliged the paladin to an added effort for emitting the last word, which barely came out through the bloody clenched teeth.

"Do not worry, I cannot figure out how much you suffer, Xarag, and I won’t even dare to, but I promise you that also this time, when it has cooled down, we will manage to get you out of the gift".

"The gift, of course, guard of the queen. I know you'll do a good job with that piece of meat that still sticks to my bones," the black tower murmured in a metal hiss. "Now pour the whey into the wine and then leave me. You, at least, go and celebrate."

Xarag, the Black Star, barely approached the chalice at the deformed hole of the helmet and drank avidly. His meats, slowly devoured by his own armour, produced sounds that he would never get used to. He wanted to look up from that vision of death, he wanted to look for a star in the sky, among the poisonous and sulphur fumes, but the steel colour of the abyss no longer allowed it by many battles. He wanted to think to her, if only he didn’t have to bleed for the effort of not being torn apart in his body, mind and soul at the same time. For him, the battle would have still continued in solitude for long hours.

The fires projected cheerful arabesques on the cobalt walls of the camp tents, where the unrestrained bacchanal of victory was taking place. A group of officers argued in the galley tent, away from the crowds.

"I told you they did not fight! The angel approached, and they just looked at each other for a very long time ... at least that's what I saw as long as I could," said the young man with shelled eyes to the rest of the group.

"If only I could fight one of those damned celestials simply by standing by... Maybe even while scratching my balls.” The silly laugh of the inexperienced official interrupted in a strangled sob.

"Listen to me well, piece of dung. Just because you miraculously survived your first battle and you got good marks at the academy, do you think you gained the right to talk about the Black Star?" The veteran's arm had relentlessly triggered at the young man's throat with a ruthless grip.

"First of all, that was not just an angel, but it was one of the Powers, sent into battle directly from the third triad. Have you already forgotten the lessons on the enemy hierarchy, cutie?" The grip loosened just before the colour of the young officer passed from red to dark purple.

"Also," continued the veteran, "you can bet they were fighting, as the Power had managed to overtake the first two auras of Xarag's armour and was now attempting to force the third inner one: the disintegration of the essence."

The senior officer would have continued but was interrupted by a loud disturbing roar. The immediate shock-wave overwhelmed those present and all the contents of the tent. Perhaps the battle was not completely over.

Part Two

Xarag had been alone, immobile on the battlefield. The steaming ground and indistinguishable mess of broken men, barely visible through the smog of his abyss. His strength of will had always contained his gift. It feasted on his flesh, devouring him; he gave it his body, it gave him its strength.

He was her ultimate weapon. In a single moment he had left himself behind, embracing the Power as he stepped out of his skin. He obliterated the enemy as the Raven of Battle, he cut through their ranks as the Black Star of the Third Triad.

He became death; skin bubbled, fat boiled as men melted before him. Bloated, snaking intestines swelled, ripping through bulging flesh, lungs dissolved into a thick bloody bile, sputtering between contorted lips. A man who stood before the raw power of the Black Star paladin, died many deaths before he felt sweet release.

Xarag had returned to a paralysed body, his limp limbs consumed. He was helpless while he waited for the serum to begin its healing. It took all he had to suppress the Black Star. Cawthol would return, after the feasting, when it was safe to touch him. His second would, with tender care, remove the thick black plating and bind his corroded skin with the salve.

Hard emotion kicked inside of Xarag. He would never forget the day he took on the mantle of the third triad.

---

She had come to him then, ten years ago. Tears stained her hard cheeks, her usually-braided hair loose. She had come to him as a woman, not yet a queen.

“Xarag, I, I can’t, I’m sorry. Please, I can’t do this”

She had begged him, barefoot in her cotton slip; it broke his heart. In light of the dying flames, he had held her.

“I know I can’t be yours” she had sobbed, “but, please, don’t make me be his”

She knew not what she asked. He hadn’t told her the price he would pay for the power they sought. He told himself she would never have asked, if she knew.

He had consoled her, as her tears soaked the cloth of a young paladin. He promised her, no matter what it took, he would guard her.

That night, he gave himself to the Black Star.

---

She looked invincible the next day, her shining armour, black metal embracing her form. She had stood before her father, before the foreign delegates, a warrior queen.

“I leave with no man” she spat in defiance.

Her father’s guard had rushed forward, ready to seize her, to force compliance.

Xarag had come between them. The flesh fizzled from the hands outstretched to grab her, slipping to the ground in spitting globules.

He hadn’t anticipated the King leading the entire army against them for their treason.

Hundreds of men, men he had lived with, drank with, men he had led in prayer, raised their sword against him.

The fear etched on her face drove him on; he would keep her safe, no matter the cost.

That day, after the first battle, it was she, the now great queen, who had brought him his serum, who sat with him, amongst the bubbling offal of men he had called friends. Tears had lined her face as she had unbound his armour, as he contorted to hide to pain.

She had kissed the half formed cheek of a devoured man. Bathed in the blood of their army, of her father, she had held him, lending him her strength.

---

As he sat alone, left on the darkened battlefield, he had thought of all the times she sat with him, the long hours they had once shared in the wake of destruction.

The pain of his flesh was lost before that of his soul, had she ever loved him, his 'thoughtful' Queen...?

The howl that erupted from the black helmet of the Black Star, ripped through the fabric of tents. His inner aura wavered as the hope he had guarded for so long, guttered low, unfed.

The Dark Shadow that swept through the camp, decimating her army, wasn’t the man it had once been.

The shifting abyss took shape before her; towering metal armour giving form to the pulp of a man as he dragged his broken body to her. She rose from her throne to stand before him, guilt flushing her scarred face. He stumbled, reaching out, he couldn’t hold it back without her. The black flame of abyss swallowed them both.

This price was not just his to pay.

They stood, once again, alone but for the dead.

I am well over the word count, oh no! But... I have come in close to the first half in length. I couldn't cut it down any more. I didn't manage to pick up on all the bits from the first half that I had hoped to, but I got a few in there.

This is my entry to @f3nix 's Finish The Story contest, another fantastic opening to go with. There is still time to enter so head over to the post to find all the rules.

Photo Credit - I couldn't find anything quite right on any of the free image sites, so I hit up google images. In the advanced settings, you can select an option "free to use or share even commercially" so you only view images you are fine to use! I prefer to use a proper site, where you can credit the artist properly, but when you need just the right image, it is a good way to go :)