Final Sacrifice

A potent smoke cloud painted the sky as the basking sun trapped the heat beneath it. The fires that stemmed from below contributed to incubating this unbearable warmth during this summer day. The tall oak trees that surrounded the lumber village proved menacing in preventing a steady wind from entering while to the south side of the village carrion crows cried out in hunger and anticipation. Their flight patterns erratic as if in a state of frenzy from the burning village below them. The flames danced upward proud and steady, as the generational homes built of tar thatched roofs and reinforced oak beams crumbled slowly.

A few bodies those garbed in standard leathers and simple bows and hatches could be seen arranged around the burning village. Their blood spilt and slowly evaporating giving a tinged of smoke and iron in the air.

A mournful of cries and clanging of chains could be heard further south of the village in an open clearing. Where those not slain were chained together in mass and delegated by militant men in red and silver uniforms. Their blades gleaming in the sunlight as their blood stained gauntlets pushed the prisoners forward one by one towards a stone altar.

Once this altar was once used to revere the primal lords of old offering animal sacrifices. Now littered with human remains and blood. A partially dug ditch was prepared behind as a multitude of ravaged corpses now lie exposed to the elements baking in the sun’s prevalent heat.

Among the offering a long line of the surviving townsfolk stood silently, as they approached their inevitable doom. An all too eager priest stood with arms open wide, his robes of black and red adding to his station and prominence. Another younger male dressed in blue robes assisted with crystal like trinkets and a ceremonial dagger. His eyes ever flicking away from each sacrifice made. The soldiers ushering in the prisoners responded to the priests commands and moved the line on with each passing request. Moving one dead body off an altar and setting a new prisoner atop.

“Rejoice my children for you are in the graces of the Scorn, your saviors. The kingdoms new order!”

The priest exclaimed with glee as another body was thrown off the altar. The next person in line a woman fell to her knees crying in horror. Chains hung around her hands bound together as others in line behind her recoiled almost paralyzed in shock.

“But do not falter, for your sacrifices will better the cause. The kingdom requires souls not lumber in these trying times”

A few soldiers responding to the priest message, continued as they forcibly placed the woman on the altar. Attaching the chains from her hands to a hook above her head as they held her feet in place. They gave a quick nod to the preacher as he smiled and raised his hands, lifting a knife and white crystal relic to the woman’s chest. The woman begging as tears ran down her horrified face eventually screaming as the knife plunged into her chest.

Beren closed his eyes as the screaming eventually stopped and the sound of a rib cage was opened. The crunching of bone as the sternum was ripped open and ribs parted revealing the heart. Each minute it grew louder as the line in front of him slowly inched forward his chains preventing his escape. Grimacing he kept his eyes averted down, his legs quivering in utter anger and despair. From the corner of his eye he noticed a few guards taking their helmets off wiping their brow as the heat of the sun bore down upon them.

“And it is with each sacrifice that we ascend the Scorn into new heights. And ensure the kingdom beckons the scorn’s new order.”

The line shifted forward once more as the whimpering of a kid could be heard ahead of the line. Beren lifted his head and attempted to shout. The scorn’s cruelty boundless even to sacrifice a child. His fit of rebellion halted him as nothing but blood came dribbling out of his mouth as he made a gurgling hissing sound in the back of his throat.

Taking notice a guard came over and smiled with vile intent as he leaned forward to inspect Beren.

“What is it? Hard to speak with no tongue?” The guard asked as he walked up and pushed him to the ground and kicked him in the side. “Not so resistant and talkative now are you. You could of been sacrificed with glory, But you had to go and kill one of our men with a cheap shot.” Finished the guard as two militants approached and forced Beren to feet not before his roughing him up with a gut wrenching strike to the ribs.

Beren hung his head in defeat as blood dribbled from his mouth. He lost track of the hours that went by as he became lost in his thoughts while in line for the sacrifice. Since they had raided his village in the morning he has had little time to recuperate and fatigue was greatly setting in. He put up a good fight with his fellow lumber jacks. Their sharpened hatches were barely enough to protect their village from the kingdom’s religious fanatics. Beren should have found himself dead but kept the fight going up until his capture. During the prisoner chain and march up the hill Beren fought the entire time and attempted to rile the villagers to fight back. It would be misfortune Beren would be made an example as his tongue was cut out and both his arms crushed with a heavy rock.

Nonetheless the line pressed on and the bodies beside the altar grew with each sacrifice. The smell of fetid flesh basking in the sun and the strong smell of blood in the air left his nostrils blaring with tinges of iron and the odor of sweat.

“As we near the conclusion of today’s tribute, the Scorn would like to thank you for your utmost cooperation.Your souls will be used to fuel the kingdom in these trying times.”

Beren spat on the ground the taste of blood almost making him gag as it slowly filled his mouth. He glared malevolently at the ground, the sound of the priest driving his senses insane. Fear no longer gripped him, it was being powerless to the situation that harassed his sanity. Lifting his eyes upward he noticed but a few in line were left and he was nearing his eventual end. The gleam of a knife flashed as the childish whimpering ended with flesh ripping, and bone crunching sounds. Gripping his hands he watched in horror as a body of a small child was thrown off the altar into the ditch behind.

Beren eyed the timid blue robed mage present as he clasped his book and appeared to speak to the priest in an uncertain manner. “The soul gem has reached its limit capacity, you might break its contents if we push it any further.” The mage stated as the priest shook his head with an unholy smile at the line before him.

“There are but three left let us finish the sermon, these remaining souls should be enough.” The priest stated as he caught Beren’s eye. “Besides there are some who must ascend to greater heights for their atrocities in fighting a government mandate!” He exclaimed as he picked the relic and knife back up motioning for the next in line.

Beren’s fingernails dug into his gripping hands as he spat out blood once more, the pain in his broken arms blaring up into his shoulders and sending his brain into a panicked frenzy. This helped him quell his inner rage as the line inched closer as another victim was laid to the altar and sacrificed before being tossed into the mass grave.

“By the grace of the Scorn, we accept your sacrifice.”

The line stalled as the last one in front of him fell to their knees crying. The priest shook his head as guards came and grabbed the victim, setting them on the altar. The feeling of suspense filled Beren as he bore witness to a knife colliding into the chest cavity of the villager. Slowly and deliberately he twisted and broke through the sternum and began prying the chest open revealing the heart. With another delicate yet slower stab he penetrated once more. Almost immediately a strange blue essence escaped from the pommel of the knife and quickly entered the relic in the priest other hand. The body was then thrown off into the ditch as the villagers life lifeless stare peered towards the heavens. Whose soul is presumably now stolen from its true final destination.

Beren stood alone the last living villager to this small lumber community. He never felt so solitary and vulnerable in his life. There was no one alive he could confide in, no one to share his rage and despair. The eyes of the dead villagers before him staring out soulless and without grace. In moments he will be one of them.

“And we have reached our final conclusion, come child let us adjourn with grace. Even a soldier murderer is accepted as a sacrifice.”

Beren grimaced, gripping his hands as he eyed the guards closing in on him. Taking in a deep breath he crouched and sprung towards the priest attempting to head butt him into the ditch behind. He would have been lucky as the priest began backing up slightly attempting to put the mage between them. Before Beren could make contact however he felt a surge of pain as his movement stopped and found himself impaled on a sword. Unfortunately from the same soldier who cut out his tongue earlier.

Beren let out a pain stricken groan as the sword lifted up severing his shoulder from his broken arm. It hung for but a brief moment as the strands of flesh parted as the blade was lifted out. His arm falling onto the ground below with a soft thud. Shock filled him but he felt no pain, though vastly fatigued adrenaline coursed through his veins once more as he bull rushed into the soldier who’s been torturing him all day. This sudden change of events caused both of them to fall over as Beren frantically bit onto the soldier’s ear and began chewing and pulling with growls akin to a ravaged animal.

“Sergeant Rokan!” The rest of the soldiers rallied as they pried Berne off of their ally as quickly as they can. But were not quick enough as Beren had successfully chewed the ear off of the Sergeant blood dribbling down his chin the cartilage fresh in his mouth as he spat it on the ground.

Holding his missing ear, Sergeant Rokan roared out as he pulled his sword and stabbed Beren in the abdomen, skewering him to the altar preventing any movement.

“Sergeant, as a former knight of the four pillars I expected some level of professionalism. Don’t kill him, get him on the altar and do as your are commanded!” The priest exclaimed as he repositioned himself from behind the blue mage holding his instruments of sacrifice.

“Valiant effort my child let us end this, your soul essence will soon join the rest and we will put you to good use, this I swear.” The priest ended as Beren was lifted up as he kicked and flailed to escape. His foot eagerly meeting the face of a soldier trying to hold him down. The preacher stood still with a raised eyebrow unamused by the futile resistance. Beren continued to squirm and kick violently but immediately stopped as he felt blood splash over his face. Looking up he noticed one of the guards had cut off his free leg clear up to his thigh and blood was spurting everywhere.

Beren screamed as his voice echoed off into the distance, the sound of blood gurgling in his throat as the pain and shock caused bile to regurgitate from his stomach. What was left of his tongue flapping and falling into the back of his throat did little to ease the situation as he choked on himself in a momentarily ugly death.

“Thus ends our sermon, may the Scorn your savior embody your soul heathen.”

Beren eyed the knife as it lifted up. He awaited the final plunge as time itself seemed to slow down.

I will kill you

I will kill you

I will kill you

Beren thought in his head as anger and hatred filled his mind. No longer fearing death but a devastating hatred for everyone around him. His mind fell blank as the knife plunged into his chest digging deep into where his heart was. Lifting his head in shock he watched in true unfiltered agony as his chest was pried open, his ribs smashing to reveal his fast beating heart. his eyesight grew dim as the dagger slowly stabbed his heart and a blue essence began to seep into the knife and towards the crystal relic.

With anger and hatred still filling his mind his eyesight faltered and darkness was all around him. He knew his mortal coil had been eviscerated and his heart no longer beat with abundant life. He did not feel his body nor a sense of direction, it felt as though he was trapped in the air without gravity and was unable to move nor feel. Straining his eyesight he found a long chain attached to his chest. Touching it he took notice of his soul now a copy of what his mortal body once was. Eyeing around him he seen a grand stair case leading into an endless abyss with countless souls climbing it.

What struck him odd was that none had the chain on their chest as he did. Panicking he felt and instinctively knew he was supposed to be on that staircase to reach the after life but he had been removed from it. An unwilling sacrifice to another cause. Beren eyed the chain as it led towards a deep gray tunnel devoid of all life and reason. A nearly infinite corridor in the wide space of the dark abyss.

Suddenly the chain began to pull on Beren as he began getting sucked into the gray tunnel. Its chain leading directly into the maw of darkness at the end of it. Within the blackness a multitude of souls screamed at the end with a sound so deafening it made Berens blood curdle and caused him to shiver in panic. Tendrils black as tar suddenly extended from the end and attached themselves to him slowly pulling Beren towards the relentless screaming. The arms were ghastly and clung to him as if tearing his very soul apart.

Looking further into the darkness he noticed a small red dot in the middle of the blackness as if an ancient power source was reeling him in. Looking around he searched frantically for anything to cling to but had no grip, as his hands simply slid along the gray tunnel lining. Struggling with all his vigor he felt true fear and terror for the first time as his soul became stiff, hardly able to move.

It was not death that captivated him but the true essence of obliteration and eternal torment. Looking around his surroundings for an escape he eventually noticed an odd crack in the gray tunnel. It was devoid of any color, a state he could not describe; neither white or black simply nothing. Taking in a deep breath Beren stopped resisting and used the momentum of the tendrils and his speed to surge forward to the odd crack further down the tunnel. In hopes and last ditch effort to free himself.

“My choir we are finished here today let us retire to Drita, our conquest of souls has come to an end. Our prophets will surely be pleased.” The priest stated as he held the relic up, a white crystal with blue essence rolling around deep inside. “Take this one’s head and mount it on a pike, such defiance is breathtaking even in death.” The priest stated as the guards walked over to the dead body of Beren and chopped his head off putting it into a bag, the blood soaking through dripping on the green grass.

“Sir, I have held up my deal of the bargain and shown favor to the kingdom’s new doctrine rule. I have denounced Roush and usher my research to the capital. I believe it is time I was granted my request respectfully.” The mage stated as he eyed the priest with caution and uncertainty.

“If I swear by the Scorn it will come to pass young Covon.” The priest stated curtly as his cheerful smile turned sour. “Mage...”

The mage stepped forward curiously as the guards chucked the body of Beren into the ditch behind the gory altar.

“What is this red tendril escaping the relic…”

Beren effectively slammed into the crack of the tunnel as the force of the tendrils hands dragged him. He was near the entrance of his destination as the screams and sorrowful yells could be heard from within. More smaller black hands scrambling out from the black void as the red dot seemed to eye at him as if hunger was unbound.

I will free you all

Beren thought as he lifted his arm and began punching the crack exposing more of the gray tunnel. Eventually he was able to get his arm through, it felt cold and numb on the other side but he did not care. His vengeance will be his reckoning his hatred the fuel for his soul. With a final heave he pushed the rest of his body through the crack pulling the tendrils with him.

All around him he noticed the odd colorless state as he began to plummet into pure nothingness, the tendrils following in suit still attached to his body. Looking up he noticed the large crack he made, as the gray tunnel began cracking everywhere before finally exploding without a sound, filling the void around him with fragments of sorrowful screams and broken tendrils. He did not understand what was happening but he felt as though he destroyed what ever was trapping all the souls of the prior villagers. Though their screams and wails were unending as though their torment was the only thing left after their essence was consumed.

Examining his situation he took note of the tendrils beginning to disappear, their grip on him leaving. Taking note of his body he noticed it to had began to dissipate as well, as if ash blown into the wind. He watched in horror as his limbs began to fade away into nothing-ness, his torso crumbling his senses escaping. Struggling in still motion the rest of his body vanished and all sound and sight ceased. True obliteration of the soul.

Am I dead?

Beren thought. But it was fragmented, it was as if his mind was slowly stretching far and wide becoming one with the world. He could not see smell or feel, but he could sense everything. He sensed the echoing fragments of sorrowful voices undying in the great void along side him. Everything felt trivial compared to this moment. As if a blissful slumber with a loved one caressing into their arms. Grimacing he felt his anger and hatred boiling up from afar as the obliterated souls wailed onward reminding him how he had gotten to this point. Slowly his mind began to collapse back into a singular point until it amassed into a red sphere in the great vast darkness.

Like a moth to a flame the sorrowful fragments of souls collapsed onto Beren hoping to become whole with another host. Hoping to be part of something now lost to them. Hundreds of rage, horrified and despair stricken soul echoes embodied Beren filling his own soul with rage.

They will die before I go into the great beyond. I will have my revenge.

Beren thought letting out a growl as his spectral body extended from the sphere now glowing red as the torment of the souls changed him. Hatred and anguish filling his souls heart. He did not understand what was transpiring but he felt his mind return as if reborn. Reborn with the hopes and dreams of all those who were sacrificed before him. His body felt light and he no longer felt confined in the realm of the abyss.

He could not feel but new knew he had returned to the world of the living somehow. The image of the coalescing souls still fresh in his mind helped him know he survived death. Reluctantly he slowly began to open his eyes taking in the sight of a fuzzy color of green and dark red. Coming into focus he noticed it was grass and blood, the sight no longer phasing him. He looked towards his feet and found himself levitating above the ground his entire body a translucent red. Slowly raising his head up he caught the eye of the priest and mage behind a fortitude of soldiers.

“Covon get me out of here or you won’t get your payment!” The priest exclaimed as he held the bloody stump of where his hand once was, shards of white crystal littering the ground around him.

“I told you the relic was at its limit you zealous fool.” The mage inclined as he pulled out a book from his robes and began citing a spell, his fingertips blazing with a blue aura.

Not wishing to lose the moment, Beren glided towards the preacher with an out stretched arm, but was met however with a barrage of loyal soldiers standing in front of him barring his way. Beren quickly slashed at the group but faltered as his hand simply phased through them. The soldiers eyed Beren with disbelief as they swung at him with their swords only for them to phase through unencumbered.

“It’s just a ghost he can’t harm us.” Sergeant Rokan stated as he eyed Beren curiously from behind his men, his missing ear now no longer bleeding profusely. “My my you gone and rose from the dead as a useless ghost, well done.” The sergeant implied as he sarcastically clapped his hands with an unimpressed smirk.

Anger and frustration immediately boiled deep within Beren’s being, as a red aura began to rise from around him. Letting out a sudden snarl he plunged directly into the closest soldier letting his very essence invade the body. It was stiff at first and confined as if wearing a new shirt drenched in starch. He felt heavy and blinded momentarily as he visualized himself putting the host’s soul to the back of the mind imprisoned. The process somehow eerily managed despite his new awakening.

Opening his eyes in the new body Beren knew he had possessed the soldier somehow, it even felt natural as if breathing.

“Soldier you alright? That thing, it flew into you.” Sergeant Rokan stated sounding a bit paranoid.

Turning around the soldier possessed by Beren glared back at the group with red glowing eyes unblinking with a glare that would sever the aspect of courage itself. Slowly walking forward Beren unsheathed the blade on his hip and made a quick slash at one soldier before him.

Reveling in the soldiers shock and awe Beren quickly struck another down unphased by the events that had begun to transpire before him. Red blood gushed from their necks as their eyes rolled back in a lifeless heap.

During this time the mage still citing his spell put his hands to the ground as blue light started to erupt and flash around them.

“Covon, you damn mage hurry this spell and get me out of here! Or I will have the wrath of Scorn set upon you!” The priest exclaimed almost screaming at the man while clutching his bloody stump of a hand.

Anger filled Beren once more as he roared within the body of the soldier and began striking down more before him hoping to stop the escape. With both confusion and brutality Beren swung at the last remaining soldiers advancing on him. They were trained for combat however and were quick to retaliate raising their swords, the reflection of the sun gleaming off of them. Not wanting to kill their possessed friend they quickly circled around and cut the hand holding the sword successfully disarming Beren. Beren felt the pain but it was minuscule and irrelevant to him. But the original inhabiting the body cried out in sorrow unable to control his body.

Using his other uninjured hand Beren picked up the dropped sword off the ground and stabbed the neck of another soldier, blood spraying out as his possessed body became lathered in the man’s gore. Eyeing the rest of the group with a slow turn of the head a few broke ranks and began running for the forest in utter fear and pandemonium, the crude symbol of the gaping maw of scorn on their backs resembling their fanaticism.

The few brave left standing charged at Beren as one, their soldier ranks apparent by the red and silver uniforms of the Scorn. Anger and anguish filled his mind once more as he remembered the screams within the tunnel from whence he escaped. Opening his mouth he let out a roar from deep within himself. A sound so menacing it caused the soldiers to fall to their knees holding their ears unable to perceive the shockwave. Beren watched in satisfaction as a few pissed themselves from the utter shock of what was transpiring. The lungs of the body he inhabited suddenly burst from the sheer force and sound. Beren continued still, only up until blood was flowing out of his throat and all sound ceased. Finishing his roar he wiped his mouth and forced the unwilling body he possessed to walk forward and slice the veins in the necks of each victim he passed. Each deceased falling to the grass in shock and horror stunned and oblivious to what had transpired before them, helpless and confused as their souls slowly escaped their bodies to the afterlife.

“Please! Have Mercy!” The soul within the possessed body exclaimed. Closing his eyes Beren peered into the body within and noticed he had put the soldier’s soul into a figurative cage. Without uttering a word he re-opened his eyes and peered before him. The blood oozing from his mouth and destruction of the lungs prevented him from uttering a word. He eyed the forest and took note of ten guards running in fear.

His eyes darted back to Sergeant Rokan who had made his escape towards the mage and the priest. He gave a disgusted look as he held his sword drawn aimed at Beren as if to taunt him. The magic energies swirling around them as the teleport spell finished and the three vanished into thin air.

Grimacing he felt the body he inhabited would die soon and he would not be able to chase the remaining scorn into the forest. Eyeing the blade, he gently lifted it to where he presumed the heart was for this body. The soldier inside the body struggled valiantly as the arms became stiff once more. But it was no use, the sword gently touched the leather breastplate easing its way in. Into skin and then flesh. The soldier inside grew frantic as he experienced a slow excruciating painful death. The sword only slowly reached his heart before it ineptly stopped beating, upon the puncture of the blade.