They were pieces and portions of demons, solidified and tempered by the taste of bitterness, by the dusky, raw relish of hatred; an infernal depth and glance into the outcries of daggers and swords. While vengeance and disaster kept them occupied, boredom fed them too, fueled the relentless stretch of their muscles, of their glory, of their miscreant, fiendish ways, and when the boy’s gallant opus careened across the horizon, so did the annals of abhorrence and fury, locked in a vicious battle for pride and power. He gave both due diligence, corresponded to his heart and mind, then his desire and yearning for absolute corruption, becoming a twisted, malicious thing in the dark and a poetic warrior in the afternoon; when the morning eclipsed his hide he wondered who he’d become and where he’d land. The other part of his soul, the vicious, little, cunning shard of the devil, had become an acerbic, greedy foundation of wiles and damnation, incensing, kindling, the decadence wrinkling the scion’s hide. Eventually it would be difficult to tell them apart, in mind, in essence; too depraved, too menacing, too embittered by the things they couldn’t have and couldn’t hold.
 
So neither thought anything of traversing along each world after dark. They embraced the twilight folds and the hums of monsters, crossing over paths of crypts and treasures, poking their noses into Stygian secrets, serpentining amidst caverns and catacombs. He might have stared into the vast, open crevasse where he and Rikyn had sparred, then argued, but steered clear of it, shuffling down more mysterious corridors, exploring the bestial halls and parlors of the past; born later, experiencing the might and glory of history from yesteryear’s silent mouth. If anything lurked here, he almost craved to encounter it – to shove his sword into its chest, to unleash a battle cry, to wreak havoc when he hadn’t consumed it in so long, to feel rage simmer down into the growling pits of his barrel or the sinking, clawing cracks of his heart.
 
It was Orsino who found something first.
 
The gold eyes glinted through the abyss, glowing against the amber waves of the boiling lava pit nearby, catching a familiar scent – he lifted his nose to the sultry air, first whittling it down to the stench of blood, the sharp, blunt wave of ichor – and then to a creature. He said nothing at the singular notion, following the waves and motions of the fallen pools before mentioning it to Erebos – he recalled the utter panic the boy had gone through when she’d given birth to her child – and some rudimentary factor, rooted down into his bond, told him not to give the lad any unease. The fox’s brows furrowed, then grew closer to the collapsed form lying between shadow and light, unmistakable despite the ripped seams, despite the damage and destruction laden upon her. He stood there, in silence, in the eerie, glimmering hall, and wondered what to do. Erebos must have sensed the strange flicker of apprehension intertwined through their connection though, because he was soon behind the black fox and the kitsune felt everything go completely askew.
 
The warrior swallowed once, hollow and void, staring blankly at Enna’s bloody frame, and cracked in a few places – his heart, which didn’t understand why another one of his own had been massacred and why he hadn’t gotten to her in time, his mind, which shuttered and closed and then rebelled in such an act of sinister sensations that love and rage boiled and simmered and seethed through each and every Machiavellian membrane, and his frame, which careened across the floor without thought, maw dropping instantly to a patch of her pelt that hadn’t been covered in blood. Panic flooded his system too, in a way he couldn’t describe, flickering and faltering on the silly ways they’d argued and how stupid he’d been and how he’d stop being so ridiculous if she was still alive – he knew he must have been quivering like a leaf, a piece of grass in the wind. "Enna," his voice muffled into a sputtering hiss, into a snapping mess, ending on a hushed prayer, trying desperately not to see, not to remember, the image of a filly dead and distorted beneath his stare, a murderer gone unpunished even seasons later. There were too many things he wanted to say, too many things he wanted to sob out, too many things that left him broken, muddled, and confused. His mouth caressed, slid, over her ribs, her barrel, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, eyes trying to blink away the warped decree of tears slithering past his lids, "I'm so sorry," he whispered, murmured, a soft apology that he’d always regret. What good was he – this soldier who wanted power, who wanted glory, who wanted destruction, if he was incapable of protecting his friends? If he was so inept, so foolish, always one step, one moment, one instant, too late?
 
Why her, he wanted to ask the gods. Why Arwen? Why Enna? Why anyone? Why did the world always seek to destroy the good, and never the rotten, evil, pieces of filth wandering across their realm?
 
The rage bit against the sorrow, and so many things blinded him at once – the loathsome bout of vengeance reared its head, tossed a dagger into the fray, and he knew it was him, just him, feeling this way. Orsino was quiet, sitting in the gloom. Every ounce of nefarious intention was his and his alone; enraged and embroiled, staring down fleets of revenge, depraved and wicked – a promise, a conviction, ensuring her plight wouldn’t go unpunished. It unraveled through his legs and surged against his veins, and he tried not to show it, not to unfurl it from his grasp as he shook, as he quaked, as he touched her lightly and wished she’d had her a better life than the wake of terror she’d never deserved. The lad felt utterly useless, and perhaps that too stemmed and rooted the weight of wrath and resentment festering through his embittered figure; because he still couldn’t do anything for anyone he cared about (except…. Orsino whispered, hinted, more darkness pooling into his membrane), and his voice crackled again, a piece of fire against the earth. "Who did this to you?"

enna & erebos

for you, just you