Grayness was endless when he looked up trying to recall the beginning of the decade. Soaring towers of Demos that once served as the highest points in the capital of the Empire now became the dwarf ruins. Rain and wind left visible marks on the rocks, not less than axe traces. He looked up standing still, raindrops were falling straight on his face forcing him to temporarily close his eyes. So he began to recall the past. It's the place where there once was a throne room with monumental statues of warriors who gave up their lives in defense of the Empire many years ago. He finally remembered what he was looking for in the recesses of his mind and memory, there was a noise spreading in his head and he felt like it's filling the chamber. "Oh here he is! Teoris von Graitz! Killer of the vampires and all sorts of abominations, who in the name of the Empire, destroyed the enemy and did not surrender to the kiss of death!" - Corners of his lips twitched slightly and whispered: that’s pathetic. He was walking through the room and watched the faded banners. It was hard for him to see the symbol of the heart pierced by the spear. He saw skeletons all over the stone floor that have been here for a long time and were no more covered with the human flesh. He kept walking and to his eyes appeared the view from 10 years ago when he entered the room as a mortal... The throne stood on the top of the stairs, just over it he could see a large canvas representing the first one from the long-lived Valtir family that fought with Devion, The first Damned. Teoris stopped and put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and without moving studied every piece of the painting. - "Do you regret?" Said a voice hidden in the dark, Teoris was silent - he only turned his face guided by the voice- "You have the potential...he knew it and gave you strength..." The voice immediately was stopped by Teoris standing by him with a sword stuck in his chest and with a quick movement of his hand cutting off his head he said: I forgot what regret means .. Teoris turned back and after a while he went to the marble steps that led directly to the stone throne. As he was walking he pulled out his sword with fire in his eyes. He stood in front of the throne and looked at the big painting hanging over him. A quick wave of the hand cut the painting so that the wind blowing through the ruined chamber carried fragments of historical battle in the farthest corners. He sat down slowly on the throne, resting his sword on the railing, he strengthened his grip on the stone finials and biting his lip to the blood whispered: "Tressar will fall ..."
-Przemysław Melerski
So what's your thought on this? Personally I'm in love and want some more.
Feed your Imagination,
Brovatar.
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