Oblivion Ch. 04

Lucinder appeared before his father with the pretty blonde hair of the screaming mortal brat clenched tightly in his fists. Beside the child he looked like a monster; a tall, lithe, and pale creature with skin like that of a corpse and long white hair that framed a gaunt portrait of a black sneer and black eyes. His long nails dug into the little girl's scalp and he held her tightly despite her shrieks and struggles. He cared little for her cries. They elicited no sense of guilt or sympathy. They only annoyed him.

"It is done, Father," he announced over the cries of the child.

"You've done well. Are you ready for what is to come next?" Atronachus asked from where he sat on his throne of granite.

At his father's question, his fist clenched even tighter while the child beat uselessly upon his legs and screamed.

"Certainly. What shall be done with this thing?" Lucinder then inquired, jerking the child's hair savagely. "Should I torture and kill it?"

"No. There has never been a living mortal here. I am not certain what would happen if you kill her. She may just return to Daedronus's realm and I cannot risk that," Atronachus stated as he eyed the frantic girl with disgust.

"You mean for us to keep her here?" Lucinder demanded, his eyebrows raising in question.

"Certainly not. I don't want that disgusting thing here. It is an abomination. Mortal children do not belong in any part of this realm. Besides, even in his weakened state, Daedronus may be able to retrieve her from here. I don't wish to risk that either. I want you to take her somewhere beyond the Domain of the Lords where no Lord has power or sight," Atronachus ordered.

"The Plains of Haradreth?" Lucinder gasped, his eyes widening and his brows raising again in surprise.

"Do you object?" his father demanded.

"We never go there. It's dangerous. We could... well I could... I could die there," Lucinder complained, his black sneer turning into an expression of concern.

"Go, coward. You shan't be there long enough for the beasts of Haradreth to tear you apart. She will be," Atronachus announced. "Now do as I say!"

Lucinder was not pleased. He disappeared with the child at his father's command and reappeared in a ghastly place that no Lord or god dared to venture. The Plains of Haradreth.

"There. You're free. Go!" Lucinder snarled as he finally released the terrified child and shoved her away from him.

Beneath his feet the red earth cracked and rumbled beneath the boiling crust of land. Above him the sky was a sallow gray around a black sun ringed in white. Distant mountains rumbled with the impending threat of disaster.

The Land of Haradreth was a place of constant creation and constant destruction where everything was and wasn't. The sun was perpetually eclipsed by the moon, leaving both a sun and a moon in the foreboding sky, yet neither one seemed to really be there at all. Entire races of plants and animals evolved and died out in a mere century and more rose up to replace them as the land continually reformed itself in devastating earthquakes and eruptions.

Vegetation was scarce and threatening as the few living plants that competed for the shallow ring of sunlight had developed terrifying ways of defending themselves. Most of the starving plants had also evolved to eat the flesh of anything that tried to eat them, or perhaps that wandered by unwittingly. Though the plants still fed from the sickly sunlight, most had nearly evolved into beasts.

The beasts of Haradreth were survivalists and predators beyond compare to anything found in the Domain of the Lords or the Eight Realms. There was not a beast in the land that was not equipped with superior strength, razor teeth and claws, agile muscles, and bone plating that shielding all major organs beneath nearly impenetrably thick skin. Even a god or Lord could die easily in this monstrous place as they were severed from the majority of their powers when they crossed over into the violent land of monsters.

"Please don't leave me here!" the child cried in a hoarse voice as she wrapped her arms around his leg, holding tightly.

Perplexed, Lucinder tried to kick her free with no luck.

"Get off of me!" he shouted as he pried her free and flung her away to the quaking red dirt.

He was not born the God of Cruelty for naught. In that moment Lucinder felt nothing for the child besides annoyance and he was rather glad to be rid of her, even if she would die a horrific and painful death. She deserved such a fate for her irritating behavior. He turned away, prepared to leave.

"Lucinder!" she cried, her small hand gripping the fabric of his cloak.

The sudden shock of a strange and foreign feeling tore through Lucinder's body and he shook at the sensation.

"Don't touch me!" he cried at the little girl as he ripped his cloak from her hand and backed away.

"Please don't leave me here! Please!" she begged, her huge blue eyes filled with tears. "Please! You don't have to! I don't want to die!"

Within his father's realm, Lucinder was the patron saint of the cruel. It was from their emotions that he drew his strength and over them was his domain. He had never felt compassion or mercy for another creature. He obeyed his father, not out of love, but out of habit or fear. Here, in the Plains of Haradreth, he was suddenly something else. The only mortal from which he could draw energy was this child, this creature who was terribly full of love and compassion and mercy. Panic overwhelmed him.

"Just stay away from me," Lucinder told the girl as he took another step back. He had to get out of here.

"Please don't leave me! Please! I'll be quiet and I won't scream or fight! I'll do whatever you want! Please don't leave," she begged.

Suddenly the God of Cruelty was torn. He wanted to leave this terrible land so badly that part of his soul wanted to rip its way out from his body and disappear. Yet a growing part of him wanted to take the child with him. He could not disobey his father. Besides, his father had a plan. They were going to destroy Daedronus and then Lucinder would become a Lord himself. He wouldn't have to obey his father any longer. He would make his own rules and do whatever he wanted then.

"I have business to attend to. If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back," he declared, which seemed like a fairly reasonable compromise.

His announcement eased the ache in his mind enough that he managed to tear himself away from the child and return to his father's throne room, leaving the little girl alone in a place that even Lords of realms and demon gods would not dare to venture.

"What took you so long? He's here! Go!" Atronachus barked sternly.

Lucinder felt the overwhelming and suffocating power of another Lord enter their kingdom. Daedronus had come. All the guilt had evaporated from his conscience and any semblance of compassion had frozen over into the biting cold cruelty to which he was accustomed. Now it was time for him to become a Lord. Yet, for some reason, Lucinder still intended to keep his word and go back for the child. He shook his head at his own ridiculous thought. Something strange had become of him.

Daedronus slammed open the doors of Atronachus's throne room. Raw, angry power encircled him in a glowing aura of rage.

"You look upset," Atronachus noted as he lounged nonchalantly upon his granite throne in the dark and drab stone room lit only by shallow glowing pools around its edges.

"What you've done is unforgiveable," Daedronus raged.

"Bringing a living mortal to our realm to be your whore is unforgiveable."

"Give the child back or I will kill you and give your Grand Divinity Stone to my servant!" Daedronus snarled.

"Do you think you can? I welcome you to try," Atronachus invited as he stood from his throne and sauntered towards his enemy. "You're in my house. I've been waiting millennia to do this."

Atronachus raised his arms and summoned the energy of his kingdom to gather around him. While Daedronus brought his own glowing aura of rage, Atronachus's entire body began to glow with a white coating of energy until his form disappeared into a glowing being of pure power. Daedronus did not waver.

The two Lords stood head to head for an impossibly long moment before the long kept rage of Atronachus finally unleashed itself in the form of white energy blast. His fist drew back and he swung it at his enemy with all the force of a Lord who'd been enraged for millennia. When his fist hit Daedronus's aura, the stones beneath their feet cracked and a blast of energy rippled out through the air around them, cracking the stone walls nearby.

Daedronus was prepared for hit and while it pushed him back, his open palm had absorbed most of the blow. His own aura grew brighter as he drew in the released energy that Atronachus had wasted. His enemy did not falter and did not wait long before unleashing punch after punch that knocked Daedronus back farther and farther until he collided with the crumbling stone wall behind him.

Though each blow had hurt terribly, the Lord had used each one to his advantage, collecting more and more of Atronachus's limitless energy for himself. Then it was time. He caught the last blow between two glowing fists and wrenched his opponent's arm from its socket. Atronachus roared at the sudden pain. Then Daedronus dove in with blows of his own, knocking his enemy back and driving him away. Stones shattered around them and the granite throne fell to pieces as Atronachus stumbled back into it.

Atronachus rose up from the shambles of his throne with a vengeance that left the two Lords locked in powerful battle that would not end well or soon. If they continued to fight evenly matched, they would eventually drain their respective realms of energy and kill every living thing there was. But neither would give in. Atronachus knew he would rather destroy the universe than yield to his most hated rival and Daedronus was prepared to lose his existence to save the child and the woman he loved.

Lucinder appeared in the room above Daedronus's tower. The Grand Divinity Stone glowed brightly in its center. Before him stood an armored Daedran general and the mortal female whose existence had caused so much of a disturbance. No matter what his father said, Lucinder would give Daedronus credit for choosing a beautiful mortal female, if nothing else.

"Get out of my way," Lucinder snarled at the Daedran guarding the mortal and the stone.

"Go back to where you came from," the servant snarled back as he drew a black blade from its sheath at his side.

"Do you think a magic blade and magic armor will do you any good? It doesn't look like it's helped in the past," Lucinder taunted the scarred creature.

"Against a brat like you, it is all I need," Creed spat.

Lucinder shrugged and a long silver blade appeared in his own hand. If the servant wanted to play with swords, Lucinder would appease him.

Creed lunged towards the god before the silver blade had even fully formed and Lucinder only barely blocked the Daedran's blow at the last second. The clash of metal rang out through the chamber and sparks flew as sword rained down upon sword.

By far the superior swordsman, Creed knocked Lucinder back until the God of Cruelty felt the room's wall pressing against his cloak. It would be ridiculous that he would lose to a servant creature over pride. Lucinder drew from his own minor divinity stone, and though it was far away in another domain, his silver sword began to glow white with it.

When Creed's next blow struck the sword, he was blown back by the blast of white power that erupted from the aura. Lucinder lunged in with a fierce blow of his own that sent Creed reeling across the floor, his armor clanging against the marble stone. The Daedran rushed to his feet just in time to meet Lucinder and receive another blow. Creed was flung against the wall, the stone cracking and bits of it raining down upon him as he collapsed to the ground.

Had Lucinder been facing several of Creed's kind, he might have been defeated. The Daedran were superior fighters that had been endowed with half the power of their Lord. Creed was the first and oldest of all the Daedran, the most powerful and the best fighter, and without his aura and magic, Lucinder would have been dead. As it was now, his brothers were entertaining all the Daedran in realm and Lucinder was able to drive his glowing sword down onto Creed's back.

The unyielding armor cracked and shattered beneath the point of the sword. Kristasia's cry went unheard beneath Creed's roar of agony as the blade sank down through Creed's flesh to rupture his heart. Overwhelmed with emotion, Kristasia darted towards Creed, as if to save him somehow.

Suddenly she was caught in the arms of the white monster who had taken her child and murdered her friend. He swung her around and held her pressed against the wall as he studied her, his black lipped sneer twisting into something like a grin.

In panic and anger, she tried to fight him. She shoved and pushed, slapped and kicked, but Lucinder only grabbed her and slammed her back into the wall, knocking the wind from her immediately. For a moment as the pain blared from the top of her head to the bottom of her spine, his bruising grip on her arms was the only thing keeping her upright.

"You're much prettier when you're not throwing such a fit," he told her as he loosened his grip on her.

One hand released her arm entirely and he used it to brush his fingers down the side of her cheek. Kristasia turned away from him, but her other cheek met with the stone wall and she could not escape his touch.

"I'm going to take Daedronus's Grand Divinity Stone and then I will become everything that he was," Lucinder told her as his fingertips trailed down her neck and brushed aside her hair.

"You're nothing like him," she spat.

"Well I will be the Lord of the Sixth Realm, I'll have this land and everything in it, and you as well. I will also have the same bond with you that you had with him. Or you can die along with him," he offered.

"I would rather die."

"I am the God of Cruelty, but I could be kind to you, if you were with me as you are with him. If you loved me as you love him, I would be kind to you," he stated as he gently ran the back of his fingers down her cheek.

"You care nothing for me. You're only cruel and envious. You only want what he has and you only want me because you view me as one of his possessions. You enjoy the cruelty of forcing me to make such a choice," she declared.

"True. Does that matter to you so long as I don't do you harm and you have the child back safely again?" Lucinder asked.

"Do you swear you'll give her back to me?" Kristasia asked softly.

"I swear it. All you must do is make the same bond with me," he told her as his fingers coiled under her chin and drew her face to his.

Kristasia stared into his dark eyes and saw the gleam of satisfaction there. This would be the ultimate cruelty. He would rape her before he killed Daedronus, knowing that the Lord would feel it through their bond but would be unable to save her. He would force her to bond herself to him, the man who killed her husband. He might go back on his word and kill Lonia, or he might give her back, but if he did, it would only be a means to control Kristasia. But the cruelest part of all was that he would force her to choose and accept this cruelty. She would live with knowing that she agreed to this for the rest of her life, be it endless.

Kristasia let out a long, deep breath before she spoke. Her stomach had wound itself into a knot.

"Alright," she whispered.

Creed woke up with the taste of blood in his mouth. He spat, but the blood was long gone, leaving only the residual taste coating the lining of his mouth.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again," a deep, gruff voice announced.

Creed shut his eyes again, the heat of the room settling upon him as if a searing weight had been laid on his chest. He knew he had to get up. Even now, it might already be too late.

"Then you spit on my floor. What an ungrateful wretch you are, even after all these years," the voice jeered at him.

The Daedran general slowly climbed to his feet, every muscle, joint, and bone screaming in nearly unbearable agony. Sharp, seething, burning pain stabbed into every nerve in his body and an agonized moan wrenched its way from his throat and shuddered out through his clenched teeth.

"Does it hurt? Can you even move? Yes. I hear death does that to you," taunted the wicked owner of the voice.

Creed finally opened his eyes to the dark, shadowy throne room carved into the obsidian rock of the volcano palace. Only the pulsing glow of the boiling magma streams that lined the throne room gave off any light. The man who sat upon the throne of carved black bone was cast in shadows, but Creed did not have to see the man's face to know him. He knew every line, crease, wrinkle, bone, and hair on the face of his creator.

"Can you not speak, servant? It would not surprise me that Atronachus's son might have cut out your tongue, but shouldn't you have grown it back by now?" the Lord of the Eighth Realm demanded.

"It would not surprise me that you know of Lucinder's doings, my Lord, but shouldn't you have involved yourself by now?" Creed asked, his own voice so strained with pain that it sounded strange to himself.

"Well... I was going to do something, I suppose. I did tell Daedronus that I would. However, it seems that Lucinder has already made it to his Grand Divinity Stone and there's just not enough time. My only course of action would be to avenge his death by sending my firstborn to take Atronachus's Grand Divinity Stone. Tragic, really. But what could I do?" Firolus mused in mock distress.

"What do you want, Firolus?" Creed asked in a voice so low that his words were barely audible above the hissing and bubbling of the molten rock streams.

"What could I possibly want? I am Lord of the Eighth Realm. I am the first and oldest of the Lords as well as the strongest. I have the most land, the most mortals, and the largest kingdom. What could a servant that I created possibly have to offer me?" Firolus demanded, his tone turning sharp.

"That is a question I am asking you."

Firolus leaned forward upon his throne, the edges of his features becoming barely frosted with the orange glow of the magma.

"I should have destroyed you. All those years I allowed you to live at peace and serve Daedronus, I should have had you spending in a cage beneath my castle being dipped in the lava pits below over and over again. I loved you then as the sons I have now. I loved you just as much as each of them as they were born and as much as the daughter you tried to steal from me and the woman that you did steal from me," he snarled in a tone of venomous rage.

"I didn't steal her or the girl. I helped them escape. You loved her so much that she hated you. I am glad to know you loved me just as much," Creed replied.

"Is that how you ask for my help? It seems I thought it would look more like you groveling on your knees and sound more like you begging for my mercy and forgiveness," the Eighth Realm Lord growled.

"I would receive neither, nor do I want them. I want to know what you want from me before you'll help him. If there was nothing at all, I would already be melting in a cage beneath your castle, my Lord," Creed remarked sharply.

"Bring her back to me."

The request was simple and said rather casually, all the anger and acid dropping away from the Lord's tone. The words alone were more than enough.

"There is not enough time," Creed replied just the same.

"Time? Not enough time? I do not know where she is, but I feel it when her soul enters and leaves this realm. Her next mortal life has just begun. You have one hundred years to return her to me. If, in one hundred years, you have not done so, then I will take up arms with Atronachus and I will rip Daedronus's beating heart from his chest, give his mortal to Niphythen, and give the child to Terandis to do with as they please while I let Kayden reign in his place. Then you and I shall speak again. So make your choice. Bring back to me the woman you loved enough to betray me for or suffer the death of your new master who saved you from my vengeance," Firolus declared.