held by a figure in black, shrouded in dark with trenchant red eyes. The figure looked to be draped in ancient rags that weren't quite cloth. They were too dark, too immaterial and wavered almost like shadows. These silhouettes surrounding the figure seemed to obey the figure as well, heeling like dogs, as the bent and slithered closer to Mural. Alive with smooth movements, the robes spread out like leathery wings.
The blue ball was all that interested Mural at first, glowing so brightly that it was the only thing he could ever want to look at. He watched it fidget about the worn palm it was resting in, shedding its glow in a shield of light all around. Outlined in that blue radiance, the figure basked in that terrible and artificial splendor and spread fear with its piercing red eyes. Mural faced the newcomer and gazed like a child at the agile light as it bent about his chest.
Mural scoured his mind but not a thing he had ever known had resembled the oddity before him. Fascinated with the sphere, an enticing emission called to him in a whisper he couldn't ignore. The blue ball seemed to know whom Mural was and could tune into whatever frequency he could hear his whispers at.
"It's scared," Mural muttered, realizing what he was receiving.
Uncertainty, fear, and longing pulsed into Mural's head and it all came directly from the light. This orb is alive and sentient. It possessed a mass of feelings that bombarded his skull at excessive speeds. Mural grimaced at the onslaught of emotions, but never lost eye contact with the globe. He maintained a painful interest. One thing rang from the ball louder than any other feeling; its loneliness. The sphere's shivering increased and it almost shook out of the hand holding it. Along with beams of light, its incompleteness permeated Mural.
"It suffers, it's misplaced, it's far from home. It's horribly scared of the dark person holding it. Poor thing." Mural whispered, sympathizing with it.
"Not good," the robed man uttered in a raspy voice that boomed throughout Mural's entire being. Mural was confused.
The black robes danced around divergent to the wind, jiggling about like they were alive too and trying to escape the figure as well. Mural stared at the bleak display, allowing it to eat his attention whole. The orb began to calm down and whispered something again that he couldn't make out. All he knew was that it anticipated something.
"Where are your prayers now?" The stranger asked.
"Prayers?" Mural stuttered.
"Hold the light," it rumbled, "That was your answer and now it is your fate."
The words felt terribly accurate though they made little sense. Mural took that first whisper from the hill long ago and used it as he saw fit, not anticipating it came with a price.
"I do not see," Mural said and stepped into a mood of confidence.
"You must repay your debt."
"I have no debt."
The cloaked figure grew angry and the orb whispered warnings to Mural.
"But I do have an offer," Mural stated. He wasn't about to be obligated to this cloaked stranger, even though something in his mind felt the figure spoke the truth. This would be a fight. But Mural had fought for years against own his demons only to end up one himself, and since a chance of redemption seemed at hand, there was only one thing to do.
"Do continue," its tone peaked with curiosity, coupled with a strange sense of urgency.
That tone warned Mural, suggesting that the sinister man before him might be trying to deceive him, but Veronica hadn't deserved the musket ball in her back.
"Forgiveness," Mural said.
"Do you actually believe you know what that is any longer?"
"For her," Mural stated, his hulking frame sulking, pointing at Veronica's body.
The figure pondered with it's eyes over it's shoulder as if it was fleeing. The shadows shifted unnaturally around the silhouette's dreary robes, seemingly reaching for Mural. The movement fully unveiled the figure's blood red eyes. The skin around
The blue ball was all that interested Mural at first, glowing so brightly that it was the only thing he could ever want to look at. He watched it fidget about the worn palm it was resting in, shedding its glow in a shield of light all around. Outlined in that blue radiance, the figure basked in that terrible and artificial splendor and spread fear with its piercing red eyes. Mural faced the newcomer and gazed like a child at the agile light as it bent about his chest.
Mural scoured his mind but not a thing he had ever known had resembled the oddity before him. Fascinated with the sphere, an enticing emission called to him in a whisper he couldn't ignore. The blue ball seemed to know whom Mural was and could tune into whatever frequency he could hear his whispers at.
"It's scared," Mural muttered, realizing what he was receiving.
Uncertainty, fear, and longing pulsed into Mural's head and it all came directly from the light. This orb is alive and sentient. It possessed a mass of feelings that bombarded his skull at excessive speeds. Mural grimaced at the onslaught of emotions, but never lost eye contact with the globe. He maintained a painful interest. One thing rang from the ball louder than any other feeling; its loneliness. The sphere's shivering increased and it almost shook out of the hand holding it. Along with beams of light, its incompleteness permeated Mural.
"It suffers, it's misplaced, it's far from home. It's horribly scared of the dark person holding it. Poor thing." Mural whispered, sympathizing with it.
"Not good," the robed man uttered in a raspy voice that boomed throughout Mural's entire being. Mural was confused.
The black robes danced around divergent to the wind, jiggling about like they were alive too and trying to escape the figure as well. Mural stared at the bleak display, allowing it to eat his attention whole. The orb began to calm down and whispered something again that he couldn't make out. All he knew was that it anticipated something.
"Where are your prayers now?" The stranger asked.
"Prayers?" Mural stuttered.
"Hold the light," it rumbled, "That was your answer and now it is your fate."
The words felt terribly accurate though they made little sense. Mural took that first whisper from the hill long ago and used it as he saw fit, not anticipating it came with a price.
"I do not see," Mural said and stepped into a mood of confidence.
"You must repay your debt."
"I have no debt."
The cloaked figure grew angry and the orb whispered warnings to Mural.
"But I do have an offer," Mural stated. He wasn't about to be obligated to this cloaked stranger, even though something in his mind felt the figure spoke the truth. This would be a fight. But Mural had fought for years against own his demons only to end up one himself, and since a chance of redemption seemed at hand, there was only one thing to do.
"Do continue," its tone peaked with curiosity, coupled with a strange sense of urgency.
That tone warned Mural, suggesting that the sinister man before him might be trying to deceive him, but Veronica hadn't deserved the musket ball in her back.
"Forgiveness," Mural said.
"Do you actually believe you know what that is any longer?"
"For her," Mural stated, his hulking frame sulking, pointing at Veronica's body.
The figure pondered with it's eyes over it's shoulder as if it was fleeing. The shadows shifted unnaturally around the silhouette's dreary robes, seemingly reaching for Mural. The movement fully unveiled the figure's blood red eyes. The skin around
Similar Books
