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belore-invictus · 6 years

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A Mother’s Nightmare

“KROST, NO!”

(( *** DISCLAIMER: before I continue this story, please know what you are about to read might be a trigger to some people. It involves death.****** ))

It all began early on Wednesday morning. Phaeith awakened in the arms of her loving husband. Showered, made breakfast for the both of them, and then made her way into the city. The air crisp with the winter chill that dragged seasonal scents off of the dried leaves, acorns, and grass. The fresh spring water creating beautiful symphony’s all over the forest, adding to the already living life among the grassy green blades that were crushed beneath the heavy paws of Lynx. Sometimes, nibbled at by the babe Dragonhawks as they grew..

“Today is going to be a good day.. Today, is going to be a wonderful day!” She screamed happily, prancing and waltzing along the matte roads that guided her through the forest, nearing the city. The wind blew through her golden locks, kissing her face with refreshment. Pout lips upturned into an open-lipped grin, white teeth resilient. Sadly, the woman’s fate was nowhere near good, this morning. Instead..

Before she knew it, a group of bandits stopped the Matriarch in her footfall. A low growl escaped the woman, reaching over her back for the golden hilt blade that slung over her shoulders, left arm raising in front of her chest as a golden hued shield appeared in front of her. “It takes a group of you cowards to take kill one woman?”

“No, Lady Ven’torum. We do not want to kill you. We want to take you.” One of the men spoke.

As he did, the circle of bandits began to break, creating an opening for someone to walk through. That someone was a female Magus, dressed in all dark linens. Her face covered in an opaque grey veil, the only thing able to pierce such translucency were piercing green eyes, and a deadly grin with a hiss. “My, oh my, Sister. The rumors are true, you are the Matriarch..?” A femininely raspy voice croaked out from behind the veil. “Too bad you forgot the way of our mother. You would have been much stronger.”

Beginning to speak, Phaeith was immediately cut off with an empty potato sack being pulled over her head. A blunt object slammed into her temple, knocking her out cold. The only thing left behind was dots of blood that trickled from her onto the cobblestone, and even that.. Was something many locals could easily miss. Anything bled out here..

Distinct whining and crying of a familiar voice began to awaken Phaeith, something that sounded both foreign, yet so familiar to her. The voice itself, forced her to fight the blistering headache that pounded her skull, eyelids batting quickly. “Wh.. where.. am..”

“Mom..? Mom! Mom!! Mom, wake up!” Krost cried. His cry followed by the gut-retching sounds of a body being beaten. “M-Mom..” He wheezed.

Still, her gaze was disoriented for the time being. The potato sack was still over her face, and her body bound to a chair. Wrists tied by thick ropes, and her ankles as well. She slumped forward, trying to regain her energy and strength. Krost’s crying and tears gave her the strength to push forward- and that, did nothing. Her light flared, glaring off of her. “IF YOU WANT TO PICK ON SOMEONE, YOU PICK ONE ME- NOT THE CHILD! HE IS BUT A BOY!”

“SAVE IT, SISTER!” Oliriah snapped at Phaeith, signaling for her men to leave the boy alone. She stepped closer to the Matriarch, ripping off the sack that was over her head. A hand cupped her chin, jerking the blonde’s head up, to look her in the eye. “HE IS AN ORPHAN! HE WAS TOO OLD FOR THE ORPHANAGE, HE IS NO BOY! HE IS NOT YOUR BLOOD! I AM! YET, YOU TREAT HIM WITH MORE RESPECT AND LOVE, THAN YOU HAVE EVER GIVEN ME?! You never once left the sands to visit me, Phaeith. YOU LEFT ME IN PANDARIA, TO FIGHT AND DIE ALONE! NEWS OF MY DEATH? YOU BURIED AN EMPTY CASKET, AND REFUSED TO COME AND FIND MY BODY! THEN.. THEN.. YOU TAKE THE MATRIARCH CROWN FROM, -ME?!- IT IS RIGHTFULLY MINE, AND YOU KNOW THIS! Phaeith, you are a fraud. You do not deserve that crown, and you do not deserve the Ven’torum last name. YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE WEAKEST LINK! ALWAYS BENDING TO OTHER RULES, BUT YOUR FAMILY’S OWN! Remember this?!” She shoved her hand over Phaeith’s mouth, forcing her shadow magic to suffocate Phaeith. “You have taken the one thing that I loved most from me, and it is time that I do the same thing to you, Sister.”

Panicking for breath, the woman’s face grew bluer, and bluer as the seconds ran by. The veins in her throat and eyes began to ink black, pulsating hard. Blood trickled down her nostrils- yet still, she kept her eyes locked onto Krost’s own. Tears filled them, sadness. She assumed that this was how she was going to die, in front of her son. Anything else was out of her mind, even logic. She was calling for the light within her heart, but that call? It was null and void. She barely believed in it. The only thing that allowed her heart to beat for the Light, was love. Love for the people in her life- everyone was dying, or leaving. So in turn, the Light within the woman began to fade. Right now, it was fading. Like time in an hourglass, it ticked by.

Oliriah sashayed towards the young adult boy, gripping his chin to look up at her. She forced him onto his feet, snapping her fingers to release the void magic within Phaeith’s throat that was suffocating her. After so, the hand that snapped, moved to her right hip to pull out a shiny, sharp silver dagger. “My dear boy.. You are not my blood nephew. You will never be...” She hissed as she ran the blunt side of the dagger along his cheek, barely drawing blood.

Phaeith continued to try to find a way out of the chair, struggling and growling. Her breathing grew hard. Whispers left her, likely calling for Symmaril. The sad part about this, was that her comm was gone. Symmaril, and the House, had no way of knowing what was happening at this very moment. “Sy-Symmaril!” She cried to herself, somehow getting her wrists free from the back of the chair. Her next move was to undo her ankles.

“Your mother is a fighter, hm? Look at her, she will be the last thing that you see, before you die, ‘Nephew.’”

Krost shook like a timid dog, staring at his mother. “M-M-Mom! H-Help! Mom.. Mommy?!” He cried out to his mother, still bound by the men holding him down..

Right as Phaeith freed herself from the chair and stood, prepared to run into Oliriah- she slammed her dagger right into his gut. Turning it, dragging it out, only to do it a second time. Devilish laughter left Oliriah, blood splattering all over Phaeith.

“M-Mo.. Mom..” Krost whispered, eyes wide as his knees buckled beneath him. “...I.. I.. m.. misse..d y-..” His breath left his body, as did his entire life.

“KROST! KROS-- OLIRIAH!” Phaeith growled, tears staining her eyes. She charged into her twin sister, dropping her onto the hard, wooden floor. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO MY OWN CHILD?!” She screamed, slamming her sister’s head into the wooden panels. More blood spilled, and her skull broke. The dagger within her hand slipped out, and she laid there limp. Once Phaeith realized what that Oliriah was no longer an issue, she scurried towards Krost. The group of thugs who followed Oliriah ran to their dying Don’s aid, leaving the bewildered mother with her dying- dead, son.

“Kr-Krossie.” She whispered quietly, holding him close to her chest. Both hands managed to maneuver in the position she was in, palms rested over his wound. Light spiraled from her- though, it did nothing. It was too late to fix the wound, or to bring her son back. The Light user yelled and screamed, carefully resting Krost back onto the floor as she rose onto her feet. Heaving with deadly breaths, the light aura that once sparkled around her body.. Completely shattered. It was gone, nonexistent. Her faith in the light, died with her son.

Anger consumed her soul, as did revenge and vengeance. She reached forward for her sword scattered on the ground, turning around to face the group of men that huddled behind her. Silence took over her form, and the holy runes on her body flared with a deadly, and sickening, crimson hue. Her veins pulsated in her neck, lips coiled into a snarl as her eyebrows furrowed. On the morning of Wednesday, January twenty-fourth, Phaeith lost her son, her faith in the Light, and temper. On the morning of Wednesday, January twenty-fourth, Phaeith had killed a group of Mafia members, including her own sister.. On this deadly morning, she buried her son. With him, she buried her fate in anything magical at all. A woman who was null and void, came from the ashes of a dead Phaeith.

(( @aminth-elnonore - @symmarilshatterunwra - @house-ventorum ))

#Phaeith Lost Her Faith

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