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Atash Kedah Monogatari - Lament of the Damned

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tushantin:
Part 5 - Phantom Break


I

Upon a solitary isle in the sky, in the midst of the battlefield stood unseen a lonesome bard with mallets clutched in boldness before his drums, and he watched with unblinking eyes at the river of blood and ashes that stopped in time, mid air; the essence within echoed of pain and resentment, of lost innocence that desired to fly. Red brought dominance, and fear, and superiority, fire and loss, love and lust, conflict, hope and dreams. Red was that light, but red was also blind. All that he witnessed he knew it would come to pass; he knew it would come to this.

And Yasu did nothing, but witness. Though the parasite penetrated his shell, though it drank his essence and made him ill, he stood his ground dying a little everyday and watched his children war amongst them; those very children who knew not of the real threat that hid within the deepest oceans and volcanic rivers, blinded by their prejudice, desires and self-conceit.

But that is not their battle.

He looked below at the Earthbound tribes, with spears at hand but eyes clouded in fear as they looked to the sky at the battle of the Gods. Demons and dragons flew across, and magical hammers slew their enemies. Their fate depended on the aftermath, their faith broken at the burning of their land. With a strike of his drum Yasu summoned a snow storm and shielded them from the incoming sorcerers, their isle secured by a benevolent whirlwind, while the sorcerers ponder at this miracle and refuse to acknowledge his existence.

Though spring would show its elegance and blesses lands with lush, trees that move towards the sun will catch the eye of the observer. Plants would scorn at the tree’s eclipse and ensnare the trunk with its vines, and men will throw stones at the branches when the tree bears fruits of delectable red.

And here, Yasu sighed.

Nature’s children frolic in reckless abandon, and care to exploit when nature abandoned them. Beneath your feet lies truth doused in grey, sentiments that life cast in dismay and dread, like a crack in the mirror, a gash in the soul, that dreads the loss of something beautiful. But time floods like the drop of blood as you dare veil the grey with endless red; be it your sword that demands a magnificent carpet as you march to your gallows with your interim pride. A soul is but a mortal soul, but the gash echoes in your name across eternity.

Red alone doesn’t make a painting, my children. Today fate shows itself before those that seek the answer, and the restless, lost angels shall be liberated.

And Yasu prepared for the finale, all on his own; this was nothing less than a hymn that marked the fall of a great empire.

Kingdoms and paradise are but castles of cards braving the harsh winds, and a single card misplaced can befall them all. Today I play for Edehna’s fall; tomorrow, it shall be for Zeal.

Filling his spectral lungs with plentiful air, he smashed his colossal runic drums with his mallets; the hymn of falling had begun.

******

II

Cue track - In A New World Gods Will Descend (Ballad of Puppets)

As Adamus beheld, his kingdom disintegrated, his demons flew like feathers lost in the wind, and his people betraying his orders. What of his dreams of grandeur? What of his utmost will? The Flame had promised him the absolute; was it all a lie? Blinded was he with power to look in the eye of mortal palpability, and at once he shook he Flame in rage.

“You promised me the Sun if I dare wish it, and I gave you my undying faith. Where is my absolute power? Where is my Empire?”

“I merely give power, and I gave you an Empire, and the spirits from within the deepest abyss; what you do with it is a question, and your simple decision was your undoing.”

“You worthless, piece of --,” Adamus paused, and smiled hysterically. “More, demons! Bring me those far stronger than the Ifrits; bring me an army of Marids and Dragons, and Basilisk and Roc. Bring me the storms and torments, the --”

“Those desires are not in the realm of my power.”

“Silence, tool! Bring them to me, be it the King of the Abyss!”

“It cannot be done. The spirits of the Shadow Realm --”

“BRING THEM TO ME!”

Despite his command Adamus felt rage and hatred building within he Flame in crimson effulgence, shaking in its attempts to fulfill its impossible demands. And that rage turned to uncertainty, and eventually turned to fear. The crimson glow blackened and poured black blood onto Adamus’ grip, and he saw not his room, not his Empire, not his sky, not his wife. All he saw was nothingness as an eerie, hollow voice, unclear of man or woman, veiled beyond millions of tormented souls resonated within his ears, his mind, and his soul.

“You desire too much,” said the bellowing, sinister voice. “And you dare summon the deepest chaos from the void, and here you are in Forever Zero. You of no noble ideals, no truer dreams, your soul is wretched, and so is your fragile pride.”

“And what of it?” Adamus screamed in foolish rage.

“Your power of Malkuth, is but a sacrifice of another; with all the might you wield you still fly with crippled wings, destined to fall.”

Adamus snapped back. “Don’t talk to your master this way! Answer me; who are you?”

“I am Arcmyst, the collation of Spirits and sin, the King of desires, and ruler of the Shadow Realm. I am the Alpha of dreams, the whisperer in the shadows, and the granter of greed. I am the void, the darker side of the Universe, the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come.”

Here, Adamus gulped but faced the void boldly.

“What happened to Abbyzou? What has she become?”

“Abbyzou is no longer, but Lilith, your reaper. She is the shadow that awakens at dusk, bewitching the sun to fall into the horizon; a Shaitan who belongs to the Shadow Realms.”

“And how can I stop her?”

“You cannot.”

“But you can! I command you to grant me my Empire!”

“Interesting!” The voice thundered.

Adamus saw nothing, but heard a million souls scream around him and felt a thunderous traffic of energy and emotions raze his self. The rumbling clouds calmed, but surrounded him in every direction. He could hear the eerie laughs and belittling hisses, and finally felt a loving stroke of a cold, bony finger upon his throat.

“So, a mortal wants to take the entire Shadow Realm with him to the Realm of Stone, all to destroy a mere Shaitan.”

“Y-yes...” Adamus admitted in fear. “Yes, I do.”

“But your previous debt has yet to be paid, for all the spirits you conjured without a proper pact.”

“What do you mean? What debt?”

“Power demands sacrifice, and all sacrifice so far were not your own.”

A vision appeared before his eyes an he found himself glimpsing in bubbles of innermost memories forsaken, and he saw himself with his brother Nodamus, a brotherhood that kindled all that was good. Adamus’ mornings and nightmares, and for all his strife, his brother embraced in humility vast as his own. When Adamus fell in the eyes of his people it was his brother that stood for him, always at his side. And he saw himself become a monster as he ruthlessly mutilated that very person he held dear -- and his children; those poor, innocent young souls, and their loving mother -- all for the wretched flame that promised glory.

And in another bubble he saw innocence: children of tribes playing in the grass with a blonde woman, and her husband. Ayla, this beautiful, said the man; Kino wish beautiful last.  And as Adamus saw himself lifting the Frozen Flame, continents all across the planet burned for his own amusement. The children bled limbless as they cried atop lifeless corpses, while he personally beheaded the very merchants who begged his help. For every step he took towards grandeur he ploughed seeds of relentless hatred, for the souls of resentment lay trapped beneath his feet, waiting for the hour to claim him.

Here, Adamus’ fear escalated, “No more, please! No more! Just give me a chance, please! You shall have my sacrifice; just help me destroy them and I shall give you half the Empire to haunt, and --”

But laughter interrupted his helpless pleading. Suddenly, he felt the heat rising in his environs and heard the screams of chaos grow louder. They were approaching.

“Emperor Adamus, you have proven yourself unworthy for might, and the sword you hold high shall topple in its own weight. For abuse of power given to you by Shadow Realm, a great debt is to be paid; we will take it from you.”

“No, please!” Adamus cried with his pride shattering before him, a broken ceramic mask of falsity. “Have mercy, my Lord!”

“We are touched, Adamus,” said the voice, “that you would consider us as your Lords. Yes, for that faithful respect, a mercy is ours to give; it is not what you hold dear that shall be taken, but something that you most need.”

Even if Adamus saw the reality of his deeds, though his cries came from his deepest regrets, shadows of the past crawled and ensnared his feet, his torso and shoulders, while a bone-cold finger stuck his forehead and opened a wound. Blood dripped from open wound and drenched his face in crimson, and it fell upon the barren void and shun color, brought light. Darkness fled and light poured, while the Frozen Flame lay in blackened aura, though Adamus knew not what it was; he knew not why it was. Or why he was. Like a heavy burden lifted from his shoulder, so did go everything in his mind, and he felt free. And yet saw himself trapped.

“You shall pay with your sanity...” The voices told him.

He tried to speak, but knew not what anything he said meant. He tried to scream, but no one came for him but for his worried wife; a shallow anxiety that was not her own. He screamed to get away, but walls barred his way, and he cried in solitude knowing that the very furniture of the room were alive and were after him -- possibly because even furniture need food. The royal bed complained about the King’s weight, the water-jug questioned its emptiness, the curtains were fine -- just hanging around -- but the lamps were furious with the oil prices.

And Eve... she stood, blank eyed, ready to throw herself to him, without will in her veins. She was robbed of her soul. It was the Flame’s essence inside of her.

Door of the Royal Chambers burst with a detonation, and through the smoldering hall and debris therein flew the body of Adamus’ benefactor, Magnorus, torn limb from limb and singed to his scalp. With his final breath, he uttered.

“I tried... Your Ma... Majesty...”

Somewhere outside a final knell resonated as the hundred sacrifices were clear. From the blazing door stepped a body of Lydia, missing an arm, skin and clothes charred, and smirked at the coward Emperor one last time before she fell unmoving.

Adamus threw a knife at the intruder, which struck her torso, but she moved not. Shocked as he was, his fears were lifted and he looked to the world that threatened to kill him. But the witch was dead. The witch was dead! He cared not for the world, but for his sweet wife Eve; he would run away in solitary, alone with his love. And he looked back to his love, who blinked not, and took her in a warm embrace. She would love him, because she was ordered to.

“W-w-we never p-p-art, my belov... lovey,” Adamus cried. “You l-lo-... Y-you r-r-rove me--”

But before he could complete his sentence, a sharp pain tore into his back. Adamus pushed himself free and saw Eve’s eyes gleaming gold, a sinister smile played on her face as she lifted a dagger trickling with his blood.

“Oh, I love you, sweetie,” Eve licked her lips maliciously as a scythe appeared in her grasp. “Come; let’s join me in the after-life.”

Adamus panicked and felt betrayed, the likes of which he never imagined, but he stepped forth dumb-founded towards his slayer; he marched towards death with no regrets, because death told him to.

******

The knell rung, this time a set of twelve, for the great monarch had passed away and power vacuum remained. But Lilith had interest in nothing more than to satisfy her thirst for blood; she knew not who this man was or why her mistress defied him but something within her essence trickled rage to destroy him painfully. And it was done; her want was sanctified, and she would find her peaceful rest in the winds.

And yet this human body she possessed -- Eve, her name was -- had locked away deep in a heart a maze of feelings she never knew. The blood Lilith drew only seemed more incongruous, grotesque to her, and she felt an underlying hatred for Adamus mixed with anxiety towards his well being; it confused her. Lilith looked upon the isles from the balcony and witnessed the ravage she had caused; and she grew to detest it. Mixed emotions and strange thoughts swirled in her decaying mind, while her curiosity led her to the darkened Frozen Flame on the ground.

The Flame blazed in black aura and ensnared her wrist, while her emotions turned to a whirlwind in her chest. Her thoughts blackened with cold hunger.

And all she wanted was chaos.

******

III


The Allied Kingdoms rejoiced to the sound of knells that ended the battle; though danger still lurked at every corner, for now they escaped fate far worse. The muses sang to Zeal’s triumph, sang to the miracle maker and her witch, while the soldiers assisted in the safety of Edehna’s remaining people who would join them in celebration. But Phoebe smelled something afoot, and pondered why Edehna hadn’t fallen yet. She waited patiently to spot the oddity until her Shaitan would retrieve the Flame.

But the Shaitan did not turn up. Perhaps the mistress was betrayed by her spirit, a chance unlikely to her pact. Something, surely, wasn't right.

A tremor broke the collective jubilance, and shock-waves tore rifts upon the earth. Heavens shook as mighty roars thundered from within Edehna, darkening the clouds with its deterrence. Soldiers of Zeal fled with their refugees in tow while the once proud Edehna tore itself asunder; lightning and fire danced to the funeral of a culture that would remain but a memory. Debris crumbled from the sky, corpses and swords buried in its remnants.

“Foresight!” Phoebe screamed.

But all she saw was a distant mirror, looking back at herself in contempt, until a whirlwind of malice swept through her mind, siezed her soul and threatened to ensnare her in its storm. She escaped back to reality and held her head protectively.

Edehna's castle, its stone and trees, curved and bent to a force within, and a face emerged feminine atop the isle that nestled her body. Though her beaming golden eyes told Phoebe that Lilith was trapped somewhere within, 'twas not Lilith or her former self, but an horrid amalgam with the face of Eve, though body transmogrified and fused with the vines of herculean strength. A wave of her colossal arm summoned a tsunami, and her breath covered the sky in flames. And when the destruction was not enough, she waved her arms and chanted:

“The dead who lurk in the dark, the blood that stain the oceans crimson...”

Civilians fled for their lives, while a few brave souls remained to face the monster, while Phoebe knew that she for one could never leave the event as is. Several sorcerers from independent isles took their wings and braved the beast, assaulting with lightning and fire and weapons. But the beast invulnerable blazed in azure as magic and blades had no effect.

“Hatred and jealousy in my hands..." Lilith chanted. "Gather into a thousand dark prayers...”

And Lilith’s aura strengthened as she stretched her hand towards her foes, and conjured a ball of radiant light that screamed of a thousand tortured souls.

“And that,” said a voice behind Phoebe, “is a spell so devastating and feared that no sorcerer could fathom.”

"The fallen angel, Arcmyst..." Lilith continued as her foes retreated, "Answer my prayer, and grant me thy power... Death to all living things... Destruction to all creation..."

Phoebe turned and saw her King, who subsequently grabbed her by the waist and fled with haste upon his Dragon as far away from the Beast as possible. Without a word she witnessed.

"Devour all light... Phantom... Break...!"

Lilith’s aura dissipated and the sphere of light shot towards the islands her attackers fled to and, within a blink of an eye, it vaporized those unfortunate to stay in the path. A void opened in the sky and isles disappeared into the darkness, and a horde of horrors emerged from the abyss, approaching the wary survivors.

“Your Majesty,” Phoebe inquired, “who or what is Arcmyst?”

“That is a question even I cannot answer,” Zabala replied.

“Then it is about time I find out. Excuse me, Your Majesty.”

Phoebe dived, despite her King’s warnings, and fell below the clouds.

“Erzes, become my wings!”

Black wings emerged and became a part of her own body, and she flew towards the spirit that was likely unwillingly trapped. And upon her search, on a distant isle, she spotted a lonesome bard with an ocarina with a sincere smile upon his face. And he looked at her with a single nod and turned to play his instrument.

“Yasu...” She breathed.

“This is your song,” she heard him say from a mile away.

But someone else seemed to appear between them; ‘twas none other that her love, the Rabbit King. And she chased after the image of her love, but the more he chased the further he was. And the Rabbit King turned away to his dismay, and disappeared into nothingness.

Fata Morgana...

“Are you out of your mind?” She heard someone say from besides her.

“What were you thinking going on your own?” Sad a girl from the opposite side.

Phoebe turned to her side and noticed the twins, Seith and Sheima, glaring at her from their Pegasus’.

“You’ve caused problems before,” said Vincent in contempt, approaching the three, “and Zeal cannot afford to pay for your arrogance here.”

Phoebe pouted and gave Vincent the finger, before moving to Sheima’s side. Seith laughed at redness of Vincent’s face.

True, the situation was hers to handle, but at least this one battle she would not fight alone. Whatever it was that took hold of Lilith had quite to explain, as she and her comrades flew bravely towards their target.

While the Beast noticed their approach and aimed a second sphere of light directly at them.

******

Epilogue


Xor of the Nanashi, the warrior of Shikari, stood on his winged snake as the Frozen Flame fell. Without hesitation he dived wingless and chased the Flame downward, his arms outstretched.

“Look, what falls from the sky,” Xor smirked. “‘Tis the doom of Zeal!”

“Not if I can help it.”

Like a bolt of lightning appeared a Zealian sorcerer by his side, a defiant smile flashed across her face.

“We should have known of the Shikari to betray our trust this easily.”

“The likes of you don’t deserve,” said Xor venomously. “Ab khoon ka badla khoon!”

As the Flame fell from the azure, so did the warriors in arms. A mid-air battle ensued, with promise of the world at hand.

tushantin:
And that marks the end of Lament of the Damned.

You may notice a character shows up at the beginning; as to who or what he is will be revealed exclusively in Angelus Errare, where his role is significant. Pardon me if I didn't describe what confrontation takes place between Phoebe and Lilith, because that would be inevitably starting a brand new story arc, which in no way relates to RD (but still important to Atash Kedah saga). But you can imagine~ :wink: Good guys win, aye?

Well, not quite. The epilogue there signifies a lot of things, and that Zeal may not have been in the right side all along.  :lol: This expands FaustWolf and ZeaLitY's universe inevitably regarding Zealian and Shikari culture. But what happens to the Frozen Flame? Well, the story's called Atash Kedah for a reason: a war takes place between Zabala's army and the Nanashi, an event that shakes the planet and burns an entire continent in fires of hell. And eventually the Frozen Flame is lost to time.

Well, anywhos, that's all for later. For now, thanks for reading!

TheMage:
Just finished reading, I loved it! It leaves me wanting more!

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