01-09-2017, 05:49 PM
Kilte
R
Mind Over Matter
T
here is something lurking beneath the surface for everyone - their own personal Hell. What was Kilter’s? Had his life been hellish enough? Yes, the boy thought, he had been shirked from his mothers’ side - as he was neither the strongest nor most gifted. To his father, he was nothing but a mere smear on the world - another child birthed from his wounds. To the Valley, he was just another nameless prince. To his wolves, he was now just meat. He had spent his months being devoured by the winter, as it ate at his skin and bones. Yes, to Kilter, this life was Hell. The poor wolf child knew nothing of the horrors that lay in wait.
Death’s spit procured ethereal Hell - monsters and demons that licked at the air before Kilter - things that reached towards him with cragged claws and eyes that bore no sympathy. The silver wolf’s eyes lept up towards Death, as his body struggled against the drifts of snow that held him - anything to further himself from the smoke illusions before him. Death’s voice curls around him like smoke - a warning, a threat, a truth.
The air roils around them - snow scratching at their sides and wind biting their skin. Death though, seems impervious. It is only Kilter who is wretched back and forth in the storm. Death is offering, and Kilter knows he needs to decide. Kilter, who came from blood and iron, sired by a magician and a rapturous queen - Kilter whose siblings had ruled kingdoms, whose father had created wars. His mind shook with the choice - two roads lay before him. Was he the timid wolf, to roll over and bend his neck to be bitten? Or would he stray from demise, and follow the path that history had created before him.
“Death.” His voice is lost to the storm. “Death!” He cries louder, his eyes searching through the frost before him to find his Savior. “Let me live Death. I can live. Let me prove myself.” And the wolfpup made the step down his first chosen path.