07-09-2015, 12:57 AM
KINGSLAY
It isn’t right.
He is not something to be caged. He isn’t made up of things that can be harnessed and used. He is wild like his mother. He is terrible like his father. He is a volatile combination of fire and greed and hunger. There is no room for loyalty beside the marrow in his bones. There is no room for kinship behind the bones of his ribcage.
It is their mistake.
It would be their regret, soon enough.
For now he is laying in wait. For now he is roaming the borders of the kingdom lighting fire to the trees and sending thick ash and smoke spiraling up into the sky like chimney stacks. For now he is ignoring the roaring ache of his gut, and the creatures screams for blood and flesh – but not forever.
The seconds are ticking.
The time is wasting away.
Every moment that she is not returned to him is a moment that he spends thinking of all the ways he could peel the flesh from their bones, exposed the yellowed fat and rotting guts beneath their surfaces. Every moment makes the charcoal skin along the ridge of his spine roll with agitation, and white-hot flame burst from the cracks along his body. Every moment makes the temperature in the air raise ever so slightly. Every moment brings him closer. Every moment makes him worse.
It isn’t right.
It’s their mistake.
They should have run.
They should have run like she did.
He is not something to be caged. He isn’t made up of things that can be harnessed and used. He is wild like his mother. He is terrible like his father. He is a volatile combination of fire and greed and hunger. There is no room for loyalty beside the marrow in his bones. There is no room for kinship behind the bones of his ribcage.
It is their mistake.
It would be their regret, soon enough.
For now he is laying in wait. For now he is roaming the borders of the kingdom lighting fire to the trees and sending thick ash and smoke spiraling up into the sky like chimney stacks. For now he is ignoring the roaring ache of his gut, and the creatures screams for blood and flesh – but not forever.
The seconds are ticking.
The time is wasting away.
Every moment that she is not returned to him is a moment that he spends thinking of all the ways he could peel the flesh from their bones, exposed the yellowed fat and rotting guts beneath their surfaces. Every moment makes the charcoal skin along the ridge of his spine roll with agitation, and white-hot flame burst from the cracks along his body. Every moment makes the temperature in the air raise ever so slightly. Every moment brings him closer. Every moment makes him worse.
It isn’t right.
It’s their mistake.
They should have run.
They should have run like she did.
And so, he made the Gods themselves bend at the knee.