Blood and Shadow

Round and round they circled, long blades swirling overhead under the moonlight. Ash crept low to the ground in armor black, while Mal, armor of crimson stood tall and mighty. Brothers, one born of shadow, the other of blood. The two fought constantly, training one another to be stronger, to be better, but hatred ran deep within the souls of both.

“You are foolish, brother.” Ash said in a hallowed voice. “You defy orders, and for what? Improvements?” He snarled, running in, crashing his blade against the other, high then low, left then right, swishing round with the sound of scraping metal before backing off once more.

“I make improvements. I set traps for your foolish victims, those blasted rebels, and you dare question my methods?” Mal replied gruffly. He outstretched his hand, leading a crimson mist from his brother’s chest to his fingertips. “Hah, you fool. What can you do against me? Your soul is weak.”

Ash laughed, barely standing as his life was being taken at a glacial pace. “Fool. You see what’s in front of you, nothing more!” Ash yelled, disappearing into nothing.

The light around Mal faded slowly, hair standing up on the back of his neck. “Where are you, you coward!” he yelled.

“Here.” Ash’s voice came from behind, as he moved like lightning, slicing Mal’s back to spill first blood.

Mal grunted in pain, gripping his back. He outstretched his hands, the mist gathered from his brother absorbed into it, closing the wound. “You bolster with confidence, yet you know nothing of my power, brother.”

“So you think!” Ash yelled as he backed into the dark forest, disappearing once more.

The sound of blade slicing through steel rang throughout the clearing, Mal’s screams followed as Ash shot from shadow to shadow, slicing his brother with innumerable strokes.

Mal dropped to the ground, bleeding profusely upon the lush grass. “Ha ha...seems you’re not totally incompetent. Fool!” Mal jumped up, catching his brother’s helm as he passed, draining the life force directly from his soul. Ash felt his energy stolen, slowly losing consciousness and all thought became impossible.

With his last ounce of strength, Ash stabbed his sword through his brother’s chest through a weakened spot, as his life was drained from his body. It was too late for him, for either of them. No power could save Mal from his mortal wound, not even the stolen life of his brother. Each collapsed, one bleeding to death, the other, now an empty shell.

“Well...played…” Mal croaked. “Gods...help...us…”

The Body and Mind

Harold slashed and stabbed at the mighty beasts within his dream. He had been a hero in many, defeating all forms of villains and mythical beasts. He had been a sheriff shooting up outlaws, a superhero defeating criminals and supervillains, and a kid coming back at his bullies.

This time, he was a wondrous knight, armor of bright steel , sword and shield in hand, slaying hundreds of goblins, orcs, ravenous wolves and beasts that were unleashed. He fought his way to the castle to save the princess. Through the brambles and harsh terrain to the tower, he encountered the mightiest of enemies, the dragon king, Hazras.

“You cannot defeat me, foolish Harold! Fight me, and die!” Hazras yelled, scorching the land around him, brambles, trees and all as he evaded the flame breath. I must not give up, I must save the princess! He played along, knowing it was simply a dream. He dodged and slashed, slicing the dragon’s heels and belly, guarding against his meat hook-like claws. Hazras’ fire blackened Harold’s shield, but did not melt it. Harold ran in for the final blow. I must save the princess, anything for her! He thought, running to strike the final blow to the dragon’s chest. He thrusted his sword deep beneath the beast’s scales. Hazras roared in pain, falling dead to the ground, causing Harold to jump out of the way.

With Hazras’ body as silent as the night, Harold stood victorious. He walked closer, attempting to stand upon the beast, to raise his sword to victory. In the corner of his eye, he saw a black-robed figure in the distance, walking closer. He carried a scythe, seven feet tall, arms as long as could be. His hands were absent of flesh. His hood was pitch black within, face unseen. Who is that? He had heard stories of death, the one robed in black who carried a scythe.

“Are you death?”

“Yes, child.” The figure replied, in a hallowed voice.
    “Why are you here?”

The figure stood still.

Harold looked back to the beast, roaring of victory over it in his dream. The beast came alive once more, throwing Harold off. Harold was too slow to react, as the beast’s maw overtook him, biting into his flesh. He writhed in pain more than ever before, he had never felt pain in a dream like this, never suffered nor died.

Harold awoke in his small bed at home, seven years old once more. Heart racing, breathing quickly. “Phew,” he said. He got out of bed, feeling a little groggy, and cold, so cold. He shivered, looking to the corner of his room by the window. The hooded, skeletal figure stood with his scythe in hand.

“Why are you here?” Harold asked.

“I am here for you, child.” Death replied.

“But I was dreaming, I am not dead.” Harold poised, he was muddled at the thought.

“Dreams are more real than one would think.”

“But It was a dream. My body is fine.” Harold glanced back to his bed, seeing his body laying still, unmoving. What is this? He thought. How could this happen?

“The body cannot live without the mind.”

Unbreakable

Unbreakable

Brayden Jardoa stood strong, viewing the robed man before him. His longblade and kite shield readied, clad in plate armor from head to toe. He had conquered the elements, soothed the violent spirits of the zodiac, coming to his final trial, the 13th spirit whom claimed rule over the astral plane, Serpentarius. The man who laid between the strongest, the eagle, laying between the serpent’s head and tail - the serpent bearer. The view was astounding; He stood upon a translucent platform spilling out from the door of light like angel dust in a circle, the man at the other end staring out to his surroundings. It was impeccable; galaxies, stars, planets Brayden had never dreamed of. The beauty of the sky knew no bounds. However, it was all in jeopardy due to Serpentarius; the robed man.

The man turned toward him. He was olive-skinned, a long, black beard, no hair atop his head. He grew a crooked smile from end to end.

“You are far from home, little man,” the man said plainly in a gruff voice. He closed his eyes, creepling closer as if floating upon the platform. “You have calmed the lion, the twins, the fish and the maiden.” He coughed up a subtle laugh. “Are you ready to die?”

“I will not falter, fiend,” Brayden threatened. He sliced the air with his blade. “Why do you threaten the planes? Why destroy what the spirits have come so far to build?”

Serpentarius laughed loudly. “Those fools rejected me from their ‘team’, their pathetic council of the stars,” He paced back and forth. “They thought they could hold me back, stop me,” He paused, shooting Brayden a sly grin. “Portals open on planets in the material plane across the universe, with the beasts of the zodiac. They obey me now. It’s only a matter of time before your world is destroyed. Why did you even come alone, fool? What power do you have?” Serpentarius cackled again.

“I have the power of the gods!” He yelled. He was blessed by the heavens to carry out their deeds, and he would smite those who sought imbalance. “Gods more powerful than you. I have calmed the wind, earth, fire and water, I have beaten the lion, the twins, the fish and the maiden!” He continued, readying his weapon. “Are you ready, serpent? Are you ready to taste the steeled power of the divine?”

Serpentarius laughed uncontrollably. He was undeniably insane. A spirit which felt conquering was the only thing, the best thing, one could accomplish. Brayden knew this, and would not break. I will not fail, he thought.

Serpentarius raised his staff, waves of all forms of colour swished around him, Forming him into an abomination of man, a man with a serpent’s body with arms, and the head of a cobra. He hissed violently as two massive constrictors emerged from the ground out of nothing, each two feet across and thirty feet long, fangs like blades each with venom deadlier than the most violent poison on his planet. “Tell your gods I rule them now, I will make you scream in pain for their mercy!”

Brayden raised his blade and charged full tilt at the man of serpents. I will not falter, he thought.

I am unbreakable.