Scribble & Scribe
The Prologue
At present, this story is unnamed. I wrote this short story for a competition and now I have plans to complete this as a fully fleshed out novel with this being the prologue for the events to follow:
"Nobody told me the rain would be purple..." he said. Awe and horror warred within him as he fell into its macabre spell. Indigo streams glistened on the panes of the ornate window, the stains vivid against the dim light.
"A strangely beautiful phenomenon," a disembodied voice concurred. "One we did not anticipate."
It broke the spell. Irritation engulfed him. The echo haunted him, and he refused to engage it. Its presence stabbed at him. Since its arrival, he hadn't found a moment's reprieve beyond the walls of his study. The strain it placed on him gnawed at him like a hound with a bone. Initially, he had ignored it. It persisted. His will crumbled. Short months after he had heard the first whispers he had begun to listen. To its crazed musings; its elaborate plans, its desperate plea for freedom, to become more. It had gained him nothing but purple rain. He sighed, the rain a sign to miss far too obvious to be missed. A connection evident to even the densest members of the Society.
Shaking his head, he strode off in the direction of his haven. A room of solitude. Warded. Somewhere he did not hear the incessant, volatile ramblings clawing at the silence. Its plan coming so close to fruition had made it more erratic. That disembodied voice threading itself into the walls, surrounding him with its discordant hymn. His head pounded. His tolerance waned as he left the room.
As he made his way down the shadowy corridor, he braved a glance at the faces of his long dead ancestors lining the hallways. He met the disapproval in their stares. He had thought it a trick of the light at first, but as time marched on it had become clear that they looked down on him with disdain. They scorned what he had done, what he planned to do, and approved of none of it. He ignored them. Too late to pivot now.
At the end of the corridor, an ebony door loomed over the landing. Removing an ornate brass key from the inside of his blazer, he slipped it into the lock and turned. Despite its weight, the door made no sound. It swung open to reveal an oddly plain and modern room. The simple decor provided a sharp contrast with the ancient house surrounding it. Pristine white walls shone, spotless and clinical. The desk stood simple and functional. The filing system, practical and easy to navigate. He sighed. In the safety of his sanctum he had space to think. He had no idea why he had chosen the entity, every once in a while, he caught a sense of something familiar from it, but not enough that he should risk the ire of cosmic authority. He found the mystery disturbing on a cellular level, but not enough to part from it. He clung to that presence as much as it clung to him. He had tried to fathom out the why, but any time he tried to focus on it, he lost the thread. His thoughts trailing off into the ether.
Instead, his mind floated back to the rain. Why would he make that decision?
As if his spiralling thoughts triggered a cosmic cue, black and gold twisted and shimmered in the centre of the room. It quivered slightly, the protections of the room putting up at least a semblance of resistance, before resolving into a doorway filled with the metallic glimmer of a portal. He stepped back, placing the desk between him and his impending visitor. He debated sitting in his chair, the only elaborate piece of furniture in the room, but abandoned the idea. If his end intended to step out of that doorway, he would remain standing to face it.
A woman casually stepped through the archway, ivory hair ruffled from the transit. Irritation marred his face before he schooled his features into a smooth mask.
"Very welcoming," she said as she caught his reaction, “How quickly you forget the civility expected amongst your own. Are you so out of practice?”
"It seems so," he replied, his voice a dark echo of her derisive tones, "what can I do for you, miss...."
"You can explain why dabbling with the magical matrixes of this world seemed an appropriate course of action," Her eyes locked with his and then widened with shock, "or perhaps you can not since‐"
She abruptly halted, recognition dawning as she scrutinised the man's features, the knowledge of who he was, is, making it almost impossible for her to compose herself.
His man's case had become something of an anomaly amongst her and her peers, one studied and dissected as a cautionary tale. They must have made a mistake in sending her to him. She lacked both the skills and experience and if she even alluded to an event from before, one with strong emotions attached, all of their previous sanctions would be undone.
"Hmmm, well," he said, instantly inundating her with relief. He hadn't registered the pause in her sentence, the quake in her voice, she hadn't destroyed years of artful adaptions created to contain him. She focused as he continued to address her, "if you are not as the harbinger of my destruction, what purpose has brought you to my study?"
"Never dismiss the possibility of destruction.” She purred, before chastising herself for her lack of decorum. “Look, You've made quite a mess here, a mess that has only one viable solution."
"Solution? You mean an extinction event?"
She nodded.
His brow creased, he hadn't considered this, it seemed extreme. Success and pride prevented this outcome, both parts abundant with this particular experiment.
Smothering his irritation at the unexpected turn, he decided to probe the depths of her jurisdiction to see what power she had. Her direction did not align with what he knew of protocol, and a little imbued magic in the native populace did not warrant extermination.
"Interesting, what about the directives?" he said, keeping his tone light and casual to disguise his scepticism.
"The directives allow for what I deem the best solution" Her tone turned imperious. "I won't elaborate on the nuances, but your little project carries with it dire consequences and our lack of intervention would make us complicit in the resulting catastrophe."
“Catastrope? This level of tampering here equates to minimal, certainly not beyond the scope of personal punishment rather than planetary!” His voice boomed over her.
“Excuse me, I will not…” She trailed off, “No. I will not rise to it. Extenuating circumstances require more extreme responses, you need no more information than that. In this instance, individual punishment least fits the circumstances." Her mouth ran dry as his expression darkened. She gathered her wits and decided on flattery to assuage him.
"Look, we can't afford to lose brilliance like yours, but we can not allow this either. What you have done here changed the nature of these humans at a fundamental level. It can not proceed."
She paused and sighed deeply allowing him to take a moment to consider. Could this result in an unlikely gift? They valued him, and his work here seemed immaterial since he struggled to hold onto a single thought. Without the eerie prompts of his echo he doubted he could string together a coherent thought on the subject. It didn’t seem logical to remain steadfast when this might offer him a solution to salvage some stability for himself.
No. He rejected the thought almost instantly. His nature inclined toward protection, not selfishness. Perhaps that provided a reason for his uncanny attachment to the voice. He had made a commitment to it. He would see it through. Not to mention that the humans had done nothing to him. Virtually irrelevant, but worthy of his protection all the same.
"So," he asked, breaking the tentative silence, "what next?"
Straightening her spine, she answered "I will assess the natives to decide on the most appropriate course of action. If we can save them, we will, but do not get your hopes up."
He nodded. "I understand, although, if I do not agree with your assessment, do not expect me to go quietly."
"Oh, I hope that you don’t." She replied with far more confidence than she commanded. She knew who lived beneath the surface of haze and confusion they had inflicted him with. She allowed a spark of violet to filter into the depths of her icy eyes to cover the pang of fear tightening at her core, then turned back to her portal. She spoke over her shoulder, "you have two hours whilst I complete my investigations."
She stepped through and the archway vanished leaving the man alone in a space both too empty and too full. He slumped down into his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. The full gravity of his predicament washed over him. Conflict warred within as he tossed between making a stand and backing the operative. Selfishness granted security, but it reeked of cowardness. In the furthest recesses of his mind, he also knew that he couldn't let go. The entity might have started him down this road, but other things kept him on it. A gaping hole in his head. Something missing? No, someone. His alternative, however, would form a tipping point. He would draw a solid line between himself and others of his kind. He would retain his home, but it placed him in direct opposition to the Society, unless....
"Bring her to meeee..." hissed the voice that he had thought he had barred from this haven.
"How did you---"
An unnerving giggle slithered through his brain like slime oozing across a pond; "you really thought you could hide from me?" It cackled, "You can not escape me. I bonded with you. You can run nowhere that I can not follow, any protections you seek will not keep you from me!"
The voice built to a crescendo, crashing around his head like an avalanche. He clutched at his scalp as it clawed across the inside of his skull digging into the softest points. It often did this, made him feel like it wanted to crack open his brain like an egg. No response formed until it subsided.
"And if I say no? If I help her instead, what then?"
"Then I will follow. I do not move as you do. I do not exist as you exist. I can wait eons and if you abandon our plans, I will have my revenge on them no matter the cost and I will make it glorious!" It rasped.
"Then I will follow. I do not move as you do. I do not exist as you exist. I can wait eons and if you abandon our plans, I will have my revenge on them no matter the cost and I will make it glorious!" It rasped.
Realisation dawned in his mind like the rising of the sun, that thing knew something he did not. Its claws had scraped at something in his head, but he couldn’t hold onto it. It kept slipping away. He had to trust it. He had worked too damn long and too damn hard, if he could just remember, he would know why. It sensed his mental shift and whispered again.
"Ah... you see now. Bring her to me. I can fix this."
"I can't." He roared through the pain, his voice reverberating in the empty room. He moderated it, enunciating his words with precision, as he continued. "We can't just murder her, she belongs to the Society. They sent her and they will send more if she doesn't report back."
"But how long would that take? Will they beat us to the finish line? Once the rain passes, we have one more ritual and voila. You return to yourself and I become alive... truly alive." Those last words. A hope, a wish and a prayer all in one.
He paused, that itch in his brain still grating.
"What does it mean for you to become alive? Will you grow flesh and bone and walk with us?" He hesitated, "or will you evolve into something more?"
"No more questions," the voice hummed, "you have work to do."
Its presence receded and sudden relief of pressure made him dizzy.
"What have I done?" He spoke into the vacant space. Surprise gripped him, he got an answer. Not from the room, no, instead from a long forgotten conversation with a woman he could neither picture, nor name. It rose to the surface of his thoughts like the bubbles of an expensive champagne. Foggy, but a missing piece of the puzzle he could slot into place.
"You have the answers to our salvation locked in your mind. Our power weakens before our eyes, but you can fix it. You just need to become something else... let the darkness in, let it guide you."
The ghost of a tender caress crossed his face, gone just as fast, but it left behind a trace of something much greater. An insight. The darkness. A half formed picture of a book, ancient leather passed down over centuries. A title, ‘The Darkness Within.’
Determination filled him. He reached for the drawer of his desk and opened one of the filing cabinets. He found nothing. He moved onto the next. Then the next. He had made his way through almost every drawer until his eyes landed on the book, recognition sparked by the quickly receding image. He removed the large, leather bound tome. Momentum guided him as he went straight to the final page. Shock quivered through him as he noted the hand. He had written this himself. An intense sense of loss lingered in him as he examined the page. The writing scrawled across it in fast, desperate slashes, layered with urgency and desperation. As he read, the words seeped out and washed over him in a language both foreign and familiar. He absorbed every flick and dash etched onto the brittle parchment and his whole world pivoted.
His world shifted as the changes took hold. Not in his mind, no moment of epiphany arrived, but in raw power. It imbued him, ripping through his body as the ancient syllables manifested in his soul. Energy coursed through his veins, awakening a slowly desiccating connection. One that connected him with forces he lost the name of. Realisation struck like a hammer blow. They didn't need intricate spells or complex ingredients. They just needed him. Just that connection that at that very moment strove to reform and strengthen. He pulled a notebook from the filing cabinet and began writing, each stroke of his pen a furious flash across the pages.
Less than an hour later, he closed the notebook and slipped it under his arm. A predatory grin spread across his face revealing sharp canines. His renewal quieted his mind, ceaseing the fizzing thoughts that evaporated before taking form. Violet sparks chased across his skin, as he stalked out of his office and made his way down to the ritual room.
He took didn't bother to take note of the castle halls as he moved, but if he had glanced at the portraits, he might have noticed their smiles. Instead, long, purposeful strides carried him at a rapid pace towards his destination. Gliding down broad staircases, he noted that the atmosphere of the dreary building had pivoted. It pulsed with a current and began to thrum. As he approached the heart of the building, it grew louder and beat in time with his own.
Throwing open the double doors, he marched into the centre of the room, not registering the crash as they slammed shut behind him. His gaze honed in on the mirrors. The key that the book revealed. Before, he found this room unnerving. A preventative measure, he suspected, to keep him from picking at the loosely knitted scab binding his thoughts.
Despite the external dimensions, the room curved into a cylinder. Six grand mirrors dominated the space, each curved to fit flush against the wall. They emitted an iridescent glow. Colours twirled in disconcerting shapes and served as the room’s only light source. Every other time he had stood in this spot, his reflections had looked like eerie half imitations of the man he saw now. His face stared back at him with a feral grin. His eyes changed, their cool winter blue now dancing with glittering violet light that thrashed against its confines. His aura became palpable with the weight of the decades long entrapment they had suffered at the hands of Society goons.
"Welcome home," the disembodied voice spoke, but different from before. It carried a familiar comforting cadence, one he longed for.
He grimaced, ”sorry it took me so long. "
"That doesn't matter now," it sang out all around him, “the time has arrived? You have returned?"
“Not completely, but enough.”
It sighed. “Then we end it.”
He nodded, took the notebook from the crook of his arm, and flipped to the recently completed page. Using his canines, he sliced into the flesh of his palm and traced out an elaborate diagram. As he moved, he chanted.
"Seanóirí ó dhoimhneacht, spioraid an domhain thall, tagaigí amach agus smachtaigí bhur gcumhacht!"
Static filled the air. On the back of his neck, hairs rose to greet it. He repeated the pattern a second time, his blood pooling into symbols his mind still fought against, speaking a language felt more than understood. The static became electric, lightning dancing with him to the rhythm of his chant. On his third repetition, a thumping coming sounded from beyond. He ignored it. His focus fixed on the task at hand. Four. A wind rose. Five. Shrieks echoed from a world unseen. Six. Everything trembled.
Seven. The room surrounding him shattered. Shards of reflective glass splintered out, exploding with a blinding light. Light that shot towards him and enveloped him. Wild winds wrapped him in tight binds and spun around him, twisting and binding him with a magic so old it carried the whispers of time itself. After it had finished with him, it erupted outwards. It burst through the palace, forcing its way out into the wider world leaving wreckage in its wake.
Hoarse laughter bubbled out of the man. Thoughts, old and new, churned inside and overwhelmed him. He dropped to his knees, his breathing laboured.
"What have you done?" A shrill screech sounded from just beyond the room.
"My two hours have ticked away then?" He said, not moving from his place on the floor. He didn't need to. He remembered now, remembered that he didn’t walk alone. He never had.
"Yes," she said. Her voice as hard as flint. "You and your world must end. You have gone too far. This will corrupt everything. The magic that thing contained, it will reengineer everything on this blighted rock. Do you understand that? The ramifications? Every. Single. Species. Plant, animal, even the damn rocks. For what?"
"For me."
He laughed as the woman by the door froze. Rage that mirrored his own served as an amplifier to the pure power of the exquisite creature as each version of her exited the empty frames that had contained her. Like a living flame, her hair danced as she returned to the world that had expelled her. A world that would quake before her. He marvelled. The years she had spent as little more than an echo had done nothing to diminish her beauty. Still more than enough to take his breath away.
Her eyes narrowed on the screeching harpy in the doorway. All six sets. They flowed towards each other in the centre of the room, never taking their eyes from her face. They paused a second in front of the man before resolving into one.
"No." She breathed, "not possible. No-one survives the mirrors."
She scrambled to form her portal, to get back to safety, but not fast enough. A single twist of the other's hand and her body rebelled. Pain lanced her from head to toe, each nerve burning like her molten lava. Crippled, she curled in on herself. She tried to reach for her own power to fight back, but that comforting connection evaded her, only fire replied. She clutched at her ears as blood curdling screams surrounded her and shattered the inside of her skull. Only when her throat filled with blood and she choked on the tang of iron did she understand that the cries had belonged to her. Pain continued to slice at her insides as her screams became a pathetic, wet gurgle. Spots of crimson slipped across her vision until she saw nothing but red, then black as her eyeballs exploded outwards. Their oozing sockets the last sensation before a merciful silence enveloped her and she fell still.
"Well. I expected more," the woman said, pushing back loose tendrils of hair to look down at the man rising to his feet.
"Me too. She had the advantage. We became nothing but shells of ourselves, and yet they could not finish us."
She lifted her hand and caressed his face, amber eyes filled with worry. "The memories, do they hurt?"
"Ha. Minimal and manageable. The true wound comes from my injured pride.” His voice just above a whisper, soft and fragile.
“They crippled us,” she hissed, fighting to contain the venomous rage she burried within.
“And still they failed,” he breathed as he pulled her close. “They took my memories, locked away my power, imprisoned me in my own body. If I hadn't had that moment…" He smiled then and squeezed her tight. "If not for the briefest memory of you, I wouldn’t have fought them. Your voice came to me, not a memory, a fragment, just enough that I could find my way back to you."
She tiptoed and brushed her lips against his, a tiny gesture that held a thousand promises.
"I've missed you." She murmured.
He groaned, pulling back with reluctance, “Sadly, this reunion will have to wait. We need to go outside and assess the damage."
"Ah,” she paused, her stance nervous and awkward, “Well, think of the worst thing you could possibly imagine.”
“Okay.”
“Now scale it up… a lot.” She sighed, “I couldn’t think my way out. We needed a method to break both of us free, so I made a bargain. One with a price too high to pay, but I made it anyway. We have irrevocably broken the systems of balance and we can not fix."
“Price too high to pay? Your freedom has no price that I would not gladly pay ten times over,” a grim smile slid across his face. He took her hand and led her towards the opening where the shattered remnants of doors remained. “They wanted to destroy us, and still we stand."
Picking their way through the remnants of brickwork and glass, they made their way to the opening. Crisp autumn air brought splatters of indigo splashing down around them, as it spilled onto the black and white tiles. The purple rain continued to its steady deluge. Stopping on the precipice, they surveyed the altered landscape. Trees that had held lush emerald leaves twisted and bent at odd angles, taking on a grotesque caricature of their former grace. Strange colours striated their foliage and emitted puffs of violet smoke at random intervals.
The man shook his head, "What a strange new world we have created. Did you ever envision this outcome?"
"No," she said, "we really should have prepared better."
He tilted his head, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, "better prepared for the Society to take umbrage with our relationship, break you into pieces and trap you in the hellish nightmare of the mirror realm? Not to mention banishing me to a prison within my own mind?"
"Yes." She nodded and he chuckled with incredulity. "Next time we need fail safes that do not include aligning ourselves with ancient, diabolical entities that sensible people had long banished from the physical realm. Perhaps an instruction manual that covers every eventuality?"
"Oh yes," he agreed, still laughing, "a set of directions for the end of all that we hold dear.” He smirked at her. “I suppose it would have saved us both an awful lot of heartache. Next time, I'll read the instructions."