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The Monarch
by Black Raven of
Estonia
The Monarch...
The night was falling on the land. Dragon-creatures flew fast around the black castle, dancing their ancient dance. All the inhabitants of the castle were asleep. All but one. She was an Elvin woman. She could have been very beautiful if there hadn't been a long scar on her cheek. She had extremely long black and red striped hair and very pale skin, making the woman almost corpselike. Her name was Izil. The Dragon-creatures had woken her up and so she decided to watch the six moons rising. That sight was so overwhelming and it reminded Izil of her past. None of her followers knew that she, their beloved oracle was ,once an Assassin of Azrael, the god of death. In those far away times she was called Clawfinger because of her weapons : long metal claws attached on her hands. She was one of the best assassins. There was only one person better than her. And that was her Elvin lover named
Shothis.”
These were the times”, she said to herself.” Only times when I was truly happy. Why? Why did this have to happen?” Izil started crying when she remembered the events that pushed her to this wretched black castle.” I will remember you to until the day I die Sothis.I promise. Curse you Memnarch! Curse you for taking away my life!” screamed Izil. She was always hated that white mage. Memnarch was the one who started the witch-hunt against the elves about 200 years ago. Before that humans and elves lived peacefully with one-another. But one night there came a change. One white mage had gathered a bunch of followers and started a witch-hunt against the elves. For some unknown reason the hatred against the elves had spread like fire. Maybe people didn't like them because of their beauty but none knows anymore. During these horrible times many elves were burned alive, tortured to death in horrible way or just killed. Izil and Sothis tried to escape to the forest but someone had betrayed them. They both fought for their freedom and their lives. Cold steel cutting through flesh and blood, life leaving from their earthly shells. The battle was fierce. Two lovers fought well but there were just too many humans. Izil was knocked unconscious and left for dead. But Sothis was taken.
Time passed and slowly Izil regained consciousness, but she was not at the battlefield anymore. She was in a black castle, surrounded by followers of Azrael, the only people not affected by the hunt. Izil was soon told that she is the Oracle. The legendary scarred warrior who brings them a new dawn. Izil was glad to serve Azrael. At least she didn't have to serve some white god of peace. But before she could be the Oracle she had to know what had happened to Sothis. So she sent one of the monks into the town where they had lived to ask for information. At first there was nothing to be heard in the city. But the monk had an unique ability to talk to rats. So he found out that Sothis was tortured to death just few days ago. The rats had told the monk that Sothis was first burned, then cut until all the skin on his body was bleeding, then stretched and last burned to his death.
When Izil was told about the fate of her loved one she fell into a deep frenzy for days. Locking herself into the catacombs of the castle, screaming and killing everybody who dare to interrupt her mourning. So time passed. Izil became the respected Oracle of Azrael but she was never happy anymore. Her life was full of sacrifices and Blood Rituals from then.
”Fly my dragons fly!” screamed Izil. Suddenly she heard a whispering sound. Something was calling her name. She looked around but there was none to be seen on the balcony. But when she looked to the sky she saw an image of a man. And that man was Sothis. The ghastly image was floating towards her and when it reached her it said softly :” Come take my hand. I am taking you away from all this. Come my darling. Take my hand.” And so she did. There was no doubt in her mind. She climbed on the edge of the balcony, reached out, stepped into the darkness and shouted “The scarred warrior is no more! The new dawn never comes!” At first she felt the cold wind. And then she felt nothing. She was dead and the Dragon-creatures feasted on her crushed body that night.
But her soul didn't die. Azrael, the god of death respected her Oracle too much to let her perish in the nothingness. So she was resurrected. She became Andariel – Monarch to the kingdom of the dead.
by Black
Raven of Estonia
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