The forest screamed, a haunting, high-pitched wail that pierced Delphi's ears as he darted through the trees. His breath came in ragged gasps, every movement sending sharp stabs of pain through his already burning wounds.
His eyes flickered wildly, scanning the foliage, his ears straining to hear anything beyond the relentless screeching.
Thud.
An arrow slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet. He gasped for breath, with the hot pain spreading telling him that at least one rib had broken. A hoarse groan escaped his lips as he scrambled back to his feet, fingers grasping at his chest, only to hear the deadly whistle of another arrow slicing through the air, barely missing his head.
Maddening.
They came from a single direction. With a snarl, Delphi bolted towards it, disregarding rationality and relying solely on instinct. His blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the wail of the forest.
His shoulder was knocked back, and he gasped again. Fresh barbs of pain grew from his shoulder, and his fury erupted in a monstrous howl.
Maddening. Maddening. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
Through the haze of pain and fury, he ran, breaking out in a wild grin as he caught sight of his assailant. A horned archer, young, male, his milky white eyes wide in fear, as he caught his eyes. Shouting out, the archer drew back his bow, preparing for another shot.
Not again.
He launched himself up the tree with terrifying speed, his fingers clawing at the bark as he closed the distance. The archer barely had time to react, his foot slipping as Delphi grabbed at his legs.
With a scream, he fell, hitting the ground with a sickening crack. Delphi leapt down after him, his body shaking uncontrollably in barely disguised glee.
He lay sprawled at an unnatural angle, his leg twisted, his face contorted in pain. He edged away from Delphi pitifully, staring up at him in a mix of guilt and rage.
"You fucker." Delphi laughed out, stepping towards him slowly. "They won't even recognise your corpse."
"It'll be your corpse, demon.." The archer whispered. "Not mine.'"
His arm flashed forward, and a large rock hit Delphi in the face. He cried out, clutching his face, bloodied eyes opening to see that the archer had managed to nock one final arrow.
Thud.
An fountain of white-hot agony flooded his skull, his very head seeming to have exploded. Blood poured from the head-wound, blinding him and covering his face in a crimson blanket as he let out a guttural scream.
He fell to his knees, fists clenched, wrath boiling over into his shuddering body. Howling, he clambered atop of the man as he shook in pain, and in one last fit of fury, he slammed his fists down.
There was a sickening crunch, and the archer did not move.
Delphi dragged himself back up, moaning incessantly as pain spread itself further and further through his body.
In…my head…Need rid of.. can't think.
His vision blurred, black spots dancing mockingly in front of his eyes as he grasped the shaft, fingers slick with blood.
Panting like a dog, he squeezed the shaft, and pulled.
He didn't even realise he had been screaming. It felt as though his skull was being torn apart, every bit of shattered cranium digging into and through his head. The barbs shredded his forehead, with mangled chunks of flesh, bone and brain pouring out of it. His body heaved and burned as he struggled to stay upright.
gonna…die
His red-tinted vision swam sickeningly, but even in his deliriousness he could still see his way out.
Corpse…curse…eat.
Falling to his knees once more, he opened his mouth.
She'd heard many stories about the Cursed. Everyone had. How many times had her own mother told her about him, and how he'd come kidnap her if she didn't do her chores properly, or how he punished all naughty children in the Forest by eating them alive.
A great being of light, an Angel with piercing blue eyes and a bloodlust you could smell on the air. Lucifer, a hornless monster, come to torment all in the Forest. How those stories had excited her!
She clasped her sword with shaking hands, her tail tied tight around her.
The stories didn't do him justice. How could they? How could you describe the suffocating, overwhelming pressure or the raw stench of bloodied anger that radiated off the man?
An angel… An angel…
Her body shook with the desperate wish for the ground to swallow her whole. He glew, but not like the stories said he would. His light bathed the surroundings in a blood-red hue. It pulsed and danced from his body, casting shifting shadows across the surroundings. They fell as evil spirits dancing around him, taunting her. They called her forward.
Otherworldly…A force of nature.
The dark fabric of his billowing cloak, embroidered with gold and speckled with captured stars, was draped across the bloodstained grass. He was bent over a mangled corpse, wet crunches echoing as he chewed and chewed like some mindless animal. Mangled holes of flesh knit themselves together underneath the tears of his fabric, and it was hard to distinguish whether the blood covering him was his own or not.
A whimper escaped her lips.
He lifted his head, and noticed her.
Her eyes were caught by his, burning black like twin flames. As it noticed her, and comprehended her, they changed.
They throbbed with growing, boiling hatred like raging stars, like fragments of the breathing Abyss growing within his eyes, staring at her, watching her, looking at her. His face contorted into a monstrous snarl, as if the very muscles underneath his bloodied face hated her.
I'm going to die
She felt an impact at her stomach.
Her sword was wrenched out of hands and cast away. Rough hands grabbed her hair and yanked her backwards, throwing her with a crunch into a wailing tree.
She spluttered and gasped, slumped at the base of the tree, a mixture of tears and spit flowing down her face as she scrambled to her feet.
His black eyes were pitiless.
Strangled sobs fought their way out of her mouth, as he beat her once, twice, three times. He held her screaming head back, and with a roar, rammed his knee into her face.
A thick humming rang in her ears, the vague warmth of the blood pouring from her nose. A numbness spread through her limbs, distancing her from the world.
She jolted back to her senses, the pain all rushing in at once. Gasping, trying to process the sensitivity of her broken horns, her shattered face, she tried feebly to pick herself up from the grass. The creaking of the forest roots as they crawled towards her seemed so stupidly absurd. They really couldn't wait to drink her corpse at all.
And the corpse next to her.
Her eyes refocused.
What…that's not…?
It was twisted in an unnatural position, limbs splayed at odd angles, discarded carelessly after being ravaged. His hand stayed clasped onto his bow even in death, even torn away from his body. The once-vibrant skin was now pallid and bruised, marred by deep, jagged gashes where flesh had been torn away. Blood pooled beneath the body, dark and congealed, sipped away by the plants of the Forest.
It's not…There's no way
The face was almost unrecognizable. Almost. One eye was missing, the socket a hollow, gory cavity staring back at her accusingly. The remaining eye was glazed over, lifeless, with nothing but the fear of his final moments etched into it. A single thick horn remained on his head, the other a bony mottled stump. Chunks of flesh were missing from the arms and legs, the bites unlike anything she'd seen. The chest had been ripped open entirely, ribs protruding through torn skin, the heart and other organs visibly mutilated or missing entirely.
It's Mika.
His clothing had been shredded, and was laying away from his naked body in blood-soaked tatters. His proud warriors garb was nothing now. It was ruined.
He's ruined.
Her heart caught in her throat, her groans coming out ragged and hoarse.
The Cursed coughed violently, hacking out blobs of red phelgm as he fell to one knee. The light pulsed and danced as it emanated off his body, a dirty, mocking red.
Out the corner of her vision, a twinkling bit of metal caught her eyes. A bloodied arrow head, right next to her, within arms reach.
One of his.
Her breath forced itself in and out of her mouth, her heart pumping screaming blood through her arteries. Grabbing the arrow, she stumbled to her feet.
With a shout, she knocked him to the floor, his bloodshot eyes wide as he tumbled, still coughing. She mounted him, and gripped the arrow with two shaky hands. She plunged it down. Once. Twice. Three times. Over and over, till she lost count, the wet squelching of his body drowned out by her sorrowful screaming.
At some point, he stopped moving, and so did she, her feverish stabbings slowing down. Her arms dropped limply to her side, her tail flaccid behind her, and the tears flowed freely.
Mika…
Where was everyone else? Why had he been left alone?
With his arrow clenched tightly in her fist, she wiped her tears and breathed out. She needed to take his body back, so they could do the funeral properly, so she could mourn him properly, and then-
Delphi stared up at her.
Her limbs felt thick and heavy, and for a moment she couldn't move, her mouth agape.
His claws dug into her waist, grabbing into her, tearing great chunks of flesh clean off. Fresh torrents of pain possessed her body, and she spasmed atop of him, eyes going blank.
He clenched her throat and choked her. She stabbed uselessly at his arms, and blood flowed freely from both of their wounds, pooling beneath them, soaking into the Forest floor.
Before long, she had blacked out.
Delphi tossed the unconscious girl off of him, and turned over onto his front. Gasping and groaning, he crawled forward toward the archer carcass. He tore into the meat while resisting the urge to vomit.
Heat radiated off his body in sick waves, his muscles swelling and pulsing in swathes. His face, slick with sweat and blood, contorted as the Curse set its fingers through his body. It would do its job as long as he fed it.
The Forest wasn't all that familiar to him, but he was sure that after his wounds had recovered a little, he could outpace his hunters. They were weak and slow, useless without their weapons. They were persistent, he thought, as tears of fury dripped down his face, but he could escape. They would be scared at what he had done to their comrades, and wouldn't dare follow.
If he ran, he would survive.
The Curse whispered in his ears.
Better to slit your throat and die, than to ever run
But there's no way I can win this. Just two of them have nearly killed me, and I don't know how many more there are. I'm fucked if this keeps up.
You're scared.
Delphi clenched his fist, unable to stop its trembling. He swallowed.
I can't win.
Then slit your throat and die, the Curse hissed.
He slowly got to his feet, wiping the blood off his face. He grabbed his cloak, now ruined by blood, and tore it off. Blood oozed from his skin as sweat, various holes and slashes on his body knitting themselves together in hurried panic. His body shook uncontrollably, muscles pulsing and twitching involuntarily.
Stupid, stupid boy. There is no growth without pain, no movement without opposition. Give into your fear and run. You will be no better than a wandering corpse, a pathetic lump of flesh unable to give form to it's will in any shape, because it didn't want to be HURT.
The Curse throbbed in his chest.
Don't forget, boy, this is the way it's always been. Your fate is to die, to fight, to die again, and to fight again, like the ever-rising, ever-setting sun. You'll never run. You are strong. They are weak
A thick anger throbbed in his chest, where the curse lay, and a pallid pool of resentment collected in his stomach.
If he ran, they would survive. I can't run
The curse pumped blood through and through his arteries. It's cold rage gripped him once more, strengthened him once again.
Because even without her, you are alive.
He passed the sword from hand to hand, feeling its weight in his palms.
You are alive, because you can feel pain. Because you can hurt others.
He stood over the unconscious girl, his eyes flickering like candles as he stared down at her.
Better to die than to fear.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Help…"
The Forest was silent, all for the sound of the girl's strangled sobbing. The noise was husky and wet, miserable in its wailing, in the sound of its despair.
"Shit.." The man whispered, frozen in place. " Shit. That's not…?"
"Shut UP." The second man hissed. "Fuck all matters if it is or isn't. Draw your weapons."
Two of them drew their swords, while the third held his spear infront of him.
"There's no way it's true." The third breathed. "It can't be-"
"So I'm just hallucinating hearing Mira crying her lungs out?" The second growled. "Shut your traps and move."
The trembling of the trees became more noticable as they approached, the leaves swaying and shaking harder in their dissonance as they approached Mira's wretched sobbing.
Their milky eyes flickered and widened as they reached the edge of the clearing.
"May the gods have mercy…"
There hung Mira.
She hung, pinned to a tree with her own sword, breathing in great heaving gasps. Vomit dripped out her mouth, mixing with the blood at her feet into a single putrid mixture. Her arms flailed uselessly, as she struggled and sobbed, as she flailed her…
The second warrior stiffened, clenching his spear harder.
"Her legs.."
…which were now nothing more than bloody, weeping stumps, severed at the knee.
"It's true. He's-" The third swallowed, his trembling voice raising in pitch . "-here, he's here, Lucas, they weren't fucking lying, we're FUCKED-"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH." Lucas bellowed, face white with rage. "He's here, so we'll deal with him, as long as you control yourself and don't-"
"MIRA!"
The first ran forward, disregarding all thought of safety to do whatever he could for her. She caught sight of them. Her teary eyes widened before she screamed.
"STAY BACK."
But the world was swallowed by light, obliterating the darkness and blinding the three of them. Light burst, pure light, pure light throbbing in all its malevolence. The air crackled and burned, heralding his arrival, celebrating his ascent.
They stumbled back, shielding their faces and squinting through their arms to get a glimpse of him, of he who stood before them. His skin radiated and pulsed with a gold-white glow, every sinewy muscle beneath his scar riddled flesh outlined. Crimson blood dripped from wounds scattered across his whole body, decorating his gashes and bruises. His body was bare, but for the tattered trousers clinging to his legs, caked in someone's blood.
His muscles pulsed and writhed as he stepped forward, powerful and raw, impossibly fluid. He clenched and unclenched his hands, as if testing for the strength within them, before balling them into fists and holding them upward.
His face was twisted in some incredible fury, his eyes burning a toxic, sulphurous blue. He trudged forward and bared his monstrous, bloody teeth. Who had ever seen such purity, except in the hatred of the Cursed? Such demonic, poisonous purity, except in the eyes of…?
Satan.
Satan stood before them.
The Devil shot forward toward the man who had reached for the girl, and slammed his knee into his face. The sound of crunching bone snapped the rest of them out of their stupor.
The warrior fell backwards, sprawling to the floor with a muffled cry. He brought his foot down on his chest, bending down and grabbing the warriors sword arm.
Satan gripped the arm and pulled.
Horror branded itself on the warriors' eyes, as the arm came off with a fountain of blood, flesh, and tendon, the sound of splattering flesh accompanied by sobbing screaming.
Delphi's eyes were alight with hatred as he sunk his teeth into the flesh and tore off a great chunk. The warriors were frozen as he chewed and swallowed, bits of flesh and blood dripping off his face.
"You FUCKER-"
Lucas hurled his spear forward, but the moments hesitation had given Delphi ample time to duck, avoiding the spear and dashing towards him. Slamming his fist into his face, the warrior was thrown backwards, and the third came to his aid, shouting wildly as he whirled his blade.
Satan roared, taking a wide slash across the torso, two slashes, before grabbing the mans throat and squeezing.
Thud.
He stifled the urge to scream, at the sight of an arrow jutting through his neck.
ANOTHER FUCKING ARCHER?
Delphi opened his maws, attempting to eat the man and heal his injuries.
Thud.
At the back of his head.
His vision swam with dark dots. Through vision blurred by pain and tears, he forced as much energy as he could into his hands, to crush the man's throat and kill him.
With a flash reflecting Delphi's own light, the warrior's blade arced upwards, slicing off both his hands in one fell sweep.
Ah.
A thick thumping in his head blocked out all noise, all feeling and sensation muted and distant. He futilely threw his arms forward, only somewhat registering the metallic taste of blood in his mouth as the man punched his face over and over.
The light from his body dimmed, legs buckling under his weight and making him fall. He fell face-first, head knocking feebly on the ground as he collided with the floor. The grass of the forest tickled his face, blood flowing from his wounds and colouring the grey forest the hue of his life.
Fucking Curse. I told you I'd die.
Dull laughter echoed in his head.
That woman was right. Fated to be food for the maggots… or whatever else that whore was talking about.
Where even was he? What had he been doing here?
Dunno. Does it matter?
Delphi shut his eyes, the light disappearing from his body, returning the Forest to the darkness it had lived in before his arrival.
Why had I even come here? I could have just stayed with Sarielle. It was fine there. There was trouble, it was annoying, but at least it was comfortable. It wasn't like this.
His body shut down. The breath escaped from his lungs, and darkness enveloped his eyes as Delphi died.
…
How did I even come here?
…
What… I chose to, didn't I? But how? Where is this place? How'd I get into this Forest?
… Didn't I die? How'd I die…? I was fighting, and they had cut me up too much. I died before Sarielle could help me.
…
…
I died? And I ended up here?
…
…
…
Is this hell?
The Curse persisted. It wrapped tighter around the hollow in his chest, stretching it's grip out further through Delphi's corpse. It grew like thorny vines throughout his body, piercing and growing through his lungs, his chest, through his shoulders and his stomach.
The Curse pulsed.
His ears caught the sound of creaking tree roots, presumably reaching for his corpse.
I died to these guys? Did I get weaker, coming here? What a sight. Killed by three faggots and a bitch.
The Curse stopped it's growth, twisting the hollow in his chest and forcing blood through his arteries. The Curse breathed into his dead legs, into his rotting arms, sealing his wounds and stopping his bleeding. The Curse animated the corpse.
It hurts…what a fucking drag. They did all this to me? Where are they?
Delphi forced his black eyes open, pupils dilating to see in the dark. They had gotten the unconscious girl off the tree, and were tending to her and to one who's arm he had torn off.
Dull laughter sounded in his head.
Delphi breathed in, feeling cold air fill his throbbing lungs once more.
He used his arms to get up, forcing his stump-hands to push his body up. As he stood up, an arrow whistled through the air and buried itself in the floor next to him. A raspy laugh escaped his mouth.
Hahaha, that archer bastard's pissing himself. Never seen a corpse walk, have you?
A panicked shout sounded through the Forest. The trees began to scream once more in euphoria, the shrill screeching forcing the warriors to their feet. They caught sight of him, milky eyes wide, gripping their weapons with trembling hands.
Another whistle. Another missed shot.
He stared at the warriors, whose faces were tense with despair.
Go eat.
The blood framed his black eyes beautifully, his bloodied, matted hair clinging to his skin. His body seemed to wind down, the tension in the muscles evaporating, the fluidity returning as the boy breathed once more. His face, previously contorted in terrible fury, was now slack and relaxed in its exhaustion, handsome and boyish.
Better to die than to run. Your fate is to fight, die, to fight again, to die again. A corpse stands, to fight once more, to die once more. Ever-rising, ever-setting. Ever-living, ever-dying.
The curse throbbed through his torso, the emptiness in his body stretching.
I'm not a corpse.
The second warrior raised his sword at him, body tense and trembling. "What the fuck are you? Which shithole did you crawl out of?"
The boy wiped his face with his forearm. "Your mum's crusty cunt, obviously."
I am Delphi Kendan.