Chapter 8
I’ve Seen Too Much
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857010/chapters/52693567
“And what is this supposed to be?”
The rat monster groveling at
the foot of a shoddily built but towering “throne” (it was far from
royal, constructed from rotted wood, crumbled stone, fraying rope, and a
faded, plaid armchair) flinched, shuffling on its knees. Before it,
beside a rather intimidating pile of everything from whole carcasses to
severed limbs to steaming offal, was a single, still twitching hand, one
finger missing and previously furred skin shredded in spots. It looked
filthy, as though it had been found in a gutter.
“It… master, it was all I could find…”
The
being astride the pauper’s throne, legs thrown casually over one of the
arms and pieced together armor shining dully in the light of a distant,
roaring bonfire, only curled his lip further at the monster prostrated
on the ground before him, sharpened teeth bared and unblinking,
yellowed, bloodshot eyes glaring viciously, without pity.
“Somehow
I doubt that. Your brothers and sisters did far better… and this is the
third time this month you “haven’t been able to find any better”. Are
you trying to starve us all? Do you want our haven to collapse? Do you
want to have to fight off the lizard’s pets by yourself?” he queried
bitingly, one iron and spike toed boot bouncing in the air, and the rat
monster spluttered, bowing closer to the ground and shaking on his hands
and knees.
“No majesty, no! I-I… I will try harder, I’ll do
whatever it takes-” he squealed furtively, the vestiges of what was once
a tail whipping back and forth behind him, gathering dust, blood, and
scraps of trash in its wake, but the king, upon his throne, turned his
face away and waved an errant, uncaring hand through the air, afterwards
inspecting its claws with an air of near boredom.
At his motion,
the darkness at the edges of the firelight boiled, eager howls,
screeches, and growls filling the ransacked courtyard. Gaunt, ravenous
monsters shambled into the firelight with voracious hunger in their step
and murder in their shining eyes and foaming mouths, every beast
present focused entirely on the now sobbing rat.
“Oh I know you
will. You’ll never let me down again,” the lounging monarch drawled,
picking at a bit of flesh stuck beneath one of his claws (the comically
small crown balanced between two flea bitten, ragged ears wobbled
dangerously, reflecting light from the fire in a way that suggested it
was made from laminated paper), and at his word the horde of ravening
neophytes leaped upon the defenseless monster, his screams immediately
drowned out beneath the snarling of the starving fiends and the tearing
of limbs ripping from sockets and meat from bones.
Shadows danced
across the boarded-up windows, cracked plaster, and tall barricades
surrounding the court of the king, witnessing the nightmare of demonic
rite taking place before the unmoving throne and the seemingly uncaring
cat monster on it, his tail twitching back and forth excitedly the only
evidence he was aware of what was happening at all.
A wide,
shining pool of blood, bluish and tinged with swirls of black, spread
slowly across the filthy flagstones as the disappointment of a monster
was disemboweled and stripped of every scrap of flesh possible, growing
wider with each ragged, pain-filled gasp that remained on the nearly
dead monster’s fleshless lips, and a slime monster, one of the rat’s
eyeballs floating amidst its mass, scooped some up in an obviously
plastic chalice, squelching its way through the mass of gorging beasts
to present its prize to the idle lord lounging in his chair.
He
took it without even looking, swirling the thick, clotting liquid in a
grotesque emulation of grandeur with a twist of his wrist, and sipped
from it slowly, as though lost in thought, and blind to the massacre at
the foot of his throne. He didn’t need to see it, after all. He’d seen
far worse, done far worse, since the outbreak. He wasn’t the jelly-spined lowlife he once had been.
He
was Burgerpants no more, a mockery and a peon no longer. He had ended
his tormentors himself, with the outbreak of the Hunger, established his
kingdom in the warzone that was New Home, and gathered his willing
subjects to him with both care and cunning.
He was the Eye, master and majesty, never going hungry and never suffering a whit.
It was good to be king.
Chapter 10
Eldritch Corruption: Animal
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857010/chapters/52987039
They say that love, above all else, will conquer.
They say that if one cleaves to their partner, they shall not want.
They say that true love never dies.
They.
What do they know.
The branches of the forest, in their eternal storm of disquiet
and frozen torture, creaked and moaned in the darkness, the shadow of
what the monsters called night. The rushing of a river in the distance
tore into whatever restfulness the eve may have held with razor-sharp
fangs, pitiless and cruel as the creature astride it, and the shattering
of a tree, dead and frozen to its core, rattled the remaining peace any
mind present could dream to have.
The padded feet of a shadow darting through the trees, so light
it barely made dents in the drifts of snow, made no such noise. The
cloak the shadow clutched to it, pitch and blacker yet than the fallen
night, rustled no more loudly than a single leaf caught in a light
breeze. Its breath was muffled, cowled and hidden, and left no mark on
the frigid air.
It left no mark of its passing but for the gleam of steel, and the glow of madness in a single, intelligent eye.
No, it left no trace, made not a single sound, and for good
reason; the shadow was not the only beast that prowled the night, that
clawed for position as an apex predator, and there were others, bigger,
stronger, smarter others, that would gladly end it.
That was not allowed. The shadow would not fall, not now, not ever.
*Not now, my love. Not ever.*
The shadow let out the quietest of huffs, falling still and
silent in the shade of a great, ancient pine. Another beast moved in the
darkness of the midnight forest, stalking the edge of the path only a
few yards away… it sniffed both hopefully and hungrily along the flags,
in search of a trail.
The bandage around its missing eyes was clear, even in the dim
light… the rags it wore over its heaving, pustule studded back and the
spiked collar around its neck clearer.
They had been friends, once, long ago. Long before the angel and
the end times. They had grown up together, they and he. Gone to the
same school, had the same aspirations.
No longer. Not since the growling in their belly, not since the breaking of their heart.
*Not broken anymore, my soul. Never again.*
The shadow watched the remains of their old compatriot drag
himself away down the path, a trail of bloody paw prints in his wake,
and suppressed the hunger that badgered its mind. It was foolish to pick
a fight with him, just over food.
They would have their battle one day, but not this one.
The shadow turned on their heel the moment the hideous dog
monster shuffled out of sight and earshot, dodging across the path and
into safer territory. There was good meat here, while the deer slept.
Little monsters, fast but stupid. They fell for the trap every day,
after all… only idiots would.
*Only idiots, my pet. And we’re not idiots, no.*
Most of them would be asleep now, in their little blood-soaked
warrens, in their nests made of bones. Easy to find, just by the smell
of them, and always close to the ground. Taking to the trees was no
safer, after all… above belonged to Gyftrot.
All it took was the lightest of feet-
*Easy and careful, watch the twigs…*
The deftest of hands-
*Too fast, my love, too fast, they will hear…*
The surest of sight-
*You have them now, just a little more…*
Before one of their skinny necks was in their clutches,
squealing and scaring away the rest but it was too late, too late for
their puny claws, little knives but theirs were mighty and sharp, sharp
as the blades on their backs and just as vengeful, all there was was the
need to feed, feed them both and keep the madness at bay, the madness
that ate at the magic in their veins and twisted their spine and
narrowed their vision, but it was sharp, so sharp, as sharp as the
blades on their backs-
The tear of the flesh and the rip of the tendons, rich meat on
the tongue; the shatter of bones and the misery on the air, music to
their ears and torture, torture, it was too near and close and the blood
ran down their maw and stained their paws, white become red, red, red
redredred-
Dogamy-
What had she done-
*Hush, my darling. It had to be done, to save us both. Now, we are together.*
The shadow, shaking and whimpering, tail tucked between their
legs, nodded slowly, the whining, cringing meal in their claws ignored.
The snow at their feet was stained red, crimson with gore and
consequence and memory, their scarred, disfigured face, revealed in
their gorging, just as marked.
A single tear, black as pitch and the night and the cloak he had
once worn, ran down from the reddened, staring eye in the center of
their face, lidded and stricken.
(“Together…”), the shadow murmured, serrated fangs parting to
break the frigid air with a voice unused to speaking, and smiled
brightly into the thin air, tail gaining the air and wagging back and
forth in earnest.
*Always.*
