When the Light Goes Dark

The Carpathian castle was always dark now. The sun no longer rose over Hallowed lands, nor any lands for that matter. Light barely skirted the horizon, leaving the world to languish in a realm of shadows and darkness, barely even able to be called twilight any longer. Fires burned in the hearths at all hours as autumn took Auster, more to provide light to the castle denizens than warmth. Everyone was sequestered away in their own rooms, keeping to themselves. The world had become sick, and with it, so too had much to the Hallows—including its young Aegis.

Artorias stood in front of the great hearth, gazing into the flickering flames of the fire roaring within. The light reflected off of his amber irises as well as the fluorescent blue liquid that dripped from the corners of his eyes and nostrils. Screams of pain echoed around the castle from his wolves that were also inflicted, suffering in anguish. Or maybe that was just the voices of the damned in his head. Was someone screaming? He cocked his head and flicked an ear. No... no, the castle was silent. Always silent. Except for the screaming. But that was in his head now. Artorias shook his head as if to force the voices out, but it made no difference. That was okay, he didn't expect the voices to go away any time soon. They hadn't since the day he'd tried to confront the demons out on the plains—not he day he'd been blinded.

So Artorias continued to sit in front of the fire, surrounded by the bright orange glow from the firelight. He liked it here. The shadows couldn't get to him here. The phantoms couldn't reach him and the wraiths inside his head didn't scream as loudly. He blinked his eyes a few times as the glowing goop built up in them, wiping the mucus-y fluid away with the back of his paw. He didn't know what was coming out of him, but he'd seen Eska suffering from something similar, and a number of his Hallowed wolves were also afflicted with some sort of strange maladies. His poor sister, she had no idea what was going on or how to begin rectifying any of it. It was fine; he didn't blame her. After all, who could truly stop the end of days?

A blue paw reached to grab the neck of the bottle of wine beside him, taking a deep swig of the strong, rich red wine. Alcohol was the one thing he'd found that seemed to have any affect on drowning out the voices screaming inside his head. Can't hear the ghosts when you're drunk, after all. The bottle fell from his lips with a defeated sigh from the young Aegis. He'd run out of ideas for how to protect his pack and his family and he'd simply... given up. Trying to face the demons had done nothing. Trying to enlist help from the firefly entity had gotten him blinded. Trying to keep everyone inside the castle walls had proven ineffective. They couldn't fight shadows and specters. There was nothing they could do against the invading malice. There was nothing anyone could do.

And so Artorias had given up, allowing madness to settle over his exhausted mind. There were so many voices whispering and yelling in his head at all hours of the day that he'd stopped trying to discern what they were saying. More than once, he'd heard them urge him to kill himself—to throw himself from the tower or walk into the ocean or thrust a dagger into his own heart. Were he a weaker willed wolf, he may have considered the tempting offer just to shut the damn voices up.

Daggers... Daggers and swords... Swords...! Go get the swords...! Save your pack and cut them all down...! It'll be quicker this way...

Arotrias' head twitched on reflex as a twisted, sinister version of his own voice tried to goad him into committing mass murder. Smoldering amber eyes turned in the direction of the armory door across the great hall, staring at it through the deep, dark shadows. His heart raced as he watched the shadows swarm and swirl like clusters of ravenous insects waiting to strip his bones of flesh and sinew. He swallowed down the hard lump caught in his throat. Artorias had never been afraid of the dark before, so why was he dreading leaving the safety of the fire's light all of a sudden?

Don't you want to save your pack...? Don't you want to stop their suffering...?

"Shut up... Just shut up..."

Do it... Do what your weak mother never could... Kill them all...!

"Shut the fuck up!" Artorias bellowed and hurled the bottle of wine straight into the fire. The bottle shattered against the back of the fireplace with a clatter of breaking glass, and then the fire surged as the alcohol burned, filling the great hall with the acrid stench. Artorias didn't shy away from the fire, instead basking in the sanctuary it provided. Yes... here he was safe. Here the shadows couldn't put their vile fingers inside his brain or tug at the strings of his marionette. That was why he had fires in every room, torches in all the halls, candles wherever he could. The castle would remain lit—not just for him, but for everyone to escape the darkness. "You can't touch me in here," Artorias muttered to the shadows dancing on the walls, laughing at him, mocking him. He glared daggers at the pirouetting shapes of black on the walls and floors. "You will never touch me or my wolves again. I will burn you all away."

More laughter echoed inside his head, malicious and taunting. Artorias glowered at the shadow demons, ignoring the dripping of brightly glowing ooze falling down his chin and snout to drip onto the floor. He sniffled back some of the goop dripping from his nostrils, trying to prevent from swallowing it into his body. Was it even coming from his body? Was he producing this stuff? What the hell even was it?! Gods, he wished he had Embershard. He'd cut down all of those laughing shadows right here and now. Then they'd see... Then they'd stop laughing at him. He'd be the one laughing when he stood on their flat shadowy corpses as they melted and died. "Not gonna get me... You're not gonna get me..." said Artorias, unaware that he was slowly rocking back and forth in place, or that he had begun to give little manic giggles—or that he had already been gotten by the unseen forced corrupting the world.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Corbin" | "Argent"