King

The fallacious king dragged his ruined body through God's acre. Across the sea of bones surrounding the Ivory tower, countless bodies had fallen here never to rise again, a twisted amalgamation of failure was the foundation of the tower. The Blind king clutched Acrineum close to his chest, her once slender and noble body was just as disheveled and ruined as his own.

Years of weathering a harsh storm had left the pair worn and weak. His left hand caressed her dull and cracked body, she had been with him throughout the entire journey and he would not abandon her on his final stretch. The Fool king limped onward, his legs clumsily kept their solemn rhythm. Each foot met soft brittle bones each releasing a haunting melody against the silent wind.

Soon the ground played a grand orchestra for his approach, each sound carried endlessly by the wind. The Bastard king crept forward as the clamorous parade followed, the song rang through his body shaking his destitute armor as easily as it shook his hollow heart. Great memories of ruckus banquets and celebrations haunted him. Annivette, his life, she was as beautiful as the sun in the spring.

The Damned king stopped, the ancient pains long forgotten resurfaced twice as severe. Acrineum fell free from her master's feeble grip, the Bastard King's hands fumbled up his blackened plate. Carefully taking ahold of the wretched Crown that hung tightly around his neck, the fool king and his mangled prize. Long ago had they taken his eyes, he was truly blind, but even now he could see the crimson soak that coated the carnal metal.

The contorted crown burned the king. Even through his cold plate, the rusted crown had sat atop his crimson lineage, a brand for the lost. Tears laced down the King's scarred and mutilated face, Annivette and her golden curls stood before the wretched monarch. The celebratory music had quieted to soothing tone as Annivette glided towards him. "Ekbrecht?" Her longing rang through his ears and rage pounded through his body as he struck the thing wearing his Queen's face, the soft delicate beauty cracked and warped as her framed shifted and tore freeing the monstrosity within.

Diving away from the thing, the king fumbled to pick up Acrineum, the king's blackened mail hand clutched the fractured blade. The pale carapace warped and twisted becoming his love and unraveled again to reveal the chitinous creature. Tall and long it's ghostly abdomen was adorned with two thin wings and six spindly legs. Along its segmented torso two wicked arms clung to each other as if praying for forgiveness, in such a wretched place, the long arms looked capable of more than just repentance as they were covered in patches of sharp spikes.

Just above the arms was It's menacing pyramid head, adorned with two straight antennae and bulbous eyes that clung on to the king. It's mouth was a mess of savage teeth with two jagged mandibles impatiently tapping together. It did not move towards him as he reclaimed Acrineum and stood. It only watched unblinking. The song of the dead had faded as the two watched each other.

The white monstrosity towered over him. It spoke beautifully, two voice as one, a delicate reverb across the silent plain

"Greetings old traveler
 Cold and bitter is the road
 I follow it too"

Her voice was tender and sweet, daintily whispered words by a lover and the quiet judgmental words of a hater spoken in unison. She straightened her long body as she addressed him. The broken king could only watch the majestic monster, as it's eyes slowly devoured him.

"An enemy not
Roaming travelers we are
No enemies here"

Another sensual caress, another barbed lash. Again the beautiful creature shifted to his love, unsteady the king sat among the dead. "I need a rest" his voice matched his appearance. She wouldn't stop watching as he drank hungrily from his aged water skin. The earthy water soothed his barren throat, if he was to talk he would try to limit himself. His journey was not over yet. While drinking, the creature had crept towards him.

 "Nomila is my name
 Uncrowned I am still a queen
 You carry yours still"

The ghostly Nomila gestured towards her thin neck, gently tapping just below her jaw. Mimicking her motion the king traced his hands along the ridged crown, sullenly he looked into her triangular face, very slight blue and red lines mapped her face. He even thought those large orbs narrowed as he spoke to her. "It is my weight to carry" the king said mournfully he couldn't muster the tired anger he felt within.

The memory stung and tore at him, a savage assault that worsened with every passing day, a festering wound upon his mind. Annivette stood in the distance now, facing towards the ivory tower, a ghostly flower amongst a garden of death. He would follow her until the end. Shaking her image from his head he returned to look at Nomila, she was watching him tentatively, her mandibles were still as she stood mindfully observing him. Maybe she could see the madness in him maybe, those large eyes saw more than any man had.

Standing he did not speak, nor did he wince, moan or cry out as his body pleaded for him to stop. The aches and pains were his true crown, the crimson ruined mess found around his neck was the parting gift of all he had loved. Nomila tilted her head towards him as he warily stood, silent understanding passed between them as they set out to the chorus of the dead. Nomila had taken the lead her long legs carrying her more stably then his own, she would make a good distance and then stop and wait for him to catch up, her large eyes always scanned the horizon as if expecting to see an unknown enemy approaching.

The worthless king thought about mentioning her unease, but knew it would do no good. He had faced many damned just like him, she had been the first to talk, only after he had struck her had she spoken. His mind and body had worked against him together, his reflexes and his worn mind, damning them they had cost him an Ally.

He could not trust her to not retaliate against his unprovoked assault. Nomila the spindly queen would try getting revenge when he would least expect it. Or his mind had truly betrayed him, sowing paranoia to finally finish his journey at the end of a monsters claw, leaving him strewn about the bones of all the dead. If the pale queen tried anything he would be sure to take her with him, if he could not reach his destination neither would she.

Cursing himself he gripped Acrineum tightly, even here at the end of all things his soul was traitorous. The ashen queen could have left him to whatever she thought was coming, but she had stayed even after his strike. Looking towards his patient ghost, he saw Nomila waiting too. Having closed the distance between them she waited, eager to continue. He would apologize, he didn't know what good it would do but she must know he hadn't struck her without regret.

As he walked along meeting her six legged strides, he spoke. "My heart aches with the unjustified wrath I laid upon thee, my mind wanders and drifts. Though it is no excuse my worthless lament is all I can give, please accept it" the fallen king spoke, straining his throat to deliver the message respectfully. The lowly choir of the dead couldn't have hid what he spoke but unfazed Nomila began to steadily gain her lead as he struggled to keep up.

Unsure of what to do the blasted king said no more. Nomila's ashen carapace had multiple thin grey lines covering it, scars to match his own but she was in far greater condition than him. Even from the slowly increasing distance, he could spot multiple woven things nestled between her thin wings, satchels or bags for her kind most likely. The skeletal land stretched far into the distance, dark grayish purple earth devoid of life, was covered in scores of bone.

A melancholy collection of species danced among each other, storms of clashing ivory would coat the dead lands. The sky was granite black speckled with distant stars. The eclipse hung overhead, a thin circlet of light reaching forward to illuminate the drying world. The bones would spread, nothing could stop the inevitable, Death would reach out and pluck the world. For one fleeting final embrace of her dusky bosom. Again Nomila had waited until he reached her before she finally spoke.

"Hurt fades with time
Your wounds are worse than mine
All is forgiven"

Together they continued for hours, they walked over barren repetitive landscape, the only occasional land marks were corpses of gods. Titanic bodies that silhouetted the horizon, the king could not take his eyes away from them. The sight of each clung to his mind, Nomila seemed undisturbed by them, instead she would watch him watching them. Many had escaped his understanding, shattered in-proportionate bodies loped against indistinguishable mountainous shapes he could not describe.

One was even floating in the sky above, defiant of all laws know to the king it's long and slanderous body even shifted with the wind. The only protrusions on the smooth body, was it's numerous glossily eyes adorning the top like a crown. Another was a colossal beast it's long fur matted with minuscule bone, it sat facing towards the tower, its long-snouted face with its brutal tusks lay motion less against its chest.

The worthless king had managed to reach the same distance as such unspeakable things. One of them had a long onyx serpentine body, huge pillars of brilliant crystal blossomed out along its entirety defiantly piercing the dark heaven above. As the march continued he saw such things that he knew must be lies from his bastard mind, Eyes hundreds of them would dot the sky, the sightful cloud of meat floated over then even blocking the eclipse. such warped monstrosities must be the fabric of his mind unraveling.

He barely clung on to the strands when it passed them. Gigantic. It was impossibly large, none of the words the king knew could possible have described it. It was thin but wide as it wound about the sky, as a singular fin dragged along the surface, as it swam through the air. It sung and the king knew it's name. The world sung back. Desperately the world sung trying to match it, the King sung his ragged broken notes, tears flowed down his cheeks even Nomila joined in with her twin voice.

Frozen they both could only stand and sing with the swimmer, it's long body stalked the sky. He had worshiped Suimātarab as a boy, his mother would sing of how one day Suimātarab would escape his bounds of blood and chain and be free to sing amongst the clouds again. She sung of how though once finally gaining his freedom, he would find only grief, as he would find the world eating itself. Suimātarab could not live without the love of all those he had guided.

Before the world would fall, Suimātarab would sing once more. The king sobbed, as the deity danced through the sky illuminating it with it's oscillating brilliant body, colours and notes only know to the gods were played for all to hear. The king could only listen and weep. He knew how the song would end, his mother always wept when she had finished, but the truth had been hidden from him at his youth.

Suimātarab sung and sung, the Dead King sat atop his throne of the dead, the Red King walked the land followed by his crimson kin, the Yellow King sowed discord amongst the remnants of a dead world and the White King was lost within it's horde.

The World shook singing with Suimātarab, lighting cut through the sky dancing among his great lights. Great horns and trumpets roared, the clash of collapsing mountains drummed the final notes as the singing reached a fevered pitch. Annivette joined in and the world died.

Suimātarab's mighty body rose and fell in the following silence, it's body began hardening and spiraling as it faced the earth. The last god struck silently, scattering dust and bone a cloud swept out and covered the great plain of death, stinging the King's eyes. A thunderous blast of horns and trumpets returned, blasting away the dust, and there It stood the tower of gods and men. The ivory tower was before them. Countless rose up around him as he stood, The King hadn't notice he had been sitting as he had in his pleasant memories of his mother's singing.

Nomila stood to his side. Then they ran, they all did. The trumpets where replaced by the screams and moans of the world's dead millions in unison crying out in rage. The king ran, he destitute legs carried him towards the spiraled Tower, it's many gates stood open for those worthy enough to reach them. Nomila led her six legs carried her fast, the ground shifted and rolled as countless arms and faces broke the surface. They joined the choir desperately trying to free themselves of their death, the realization lost on them could not be hidden longer. The ground below reverberated with their sorrowful song, as they snatched and bit at anyone who passed, pitifully trying to save themselves.

Nomila's legs and arms cut and smashed the mournful dead, Acrineum danced from one to another, none would touch her king. All around others had appeared other travelers desperate to escape from a dead world. The chorus of the dead was drowned out by the vicious roar of the last survivors, the clambering horde pushed forward, together as one tsunami of bodies they clashed rushing through the ivory tower's gates.

The repentant king climbed the winding tower stairs, following the pale queen. Behind the pair spilled other destitute people of all kinds, many had never seen one another before, but in the end they were all the same lowsome survivors desperate to escape their world's end. Nomila charged upwards, it felt like only moments had passed but the king knew they had been climbing longer, driven on by the waves of others he pushed on knowing they would reach the top.

The Tower shook as the world finally fell and with it the tower went, an ivory tooth burning as the world did. Those bound inside clung tightly to whatever could be found, the dusky light of the eclipse had been replaced by Suimātarab's godly light silently the colours raced pass as constant kaleidoscope of sights.

The final gift to all had suffered in it's absence Suimātarab perished knowing some of its children had escaped his failed world, ábussoibhear had not won, Suimātarab's Pyrrhic victory would gift his last children to another world. In its final moments Suimātarab prayed they could find peace there.

It felt as if the tower had fallen for a lifetime, frantically he had clung to Nomila and the railing along the stairs, not willing to let go even after the tower had settled. Nomila had to pry him off, the other survivors clung together, faces worn and terrified. None had made an effort to stand even after Nomila and the Forgiven King climbed to the top.

The sealed ivory gates gave to the strength of both their weight together, they stumbled out through the flaky bone door and on to a balcony overlooking vermilion fields. A cloudless blue sky stretched around them, as birds flocked in the distance, the Tower stood defiantly a bony protrusion surrounded by a small patch of burned and upturned earth. The old king and the pale queen could only cry.