As she clutched her bleeding heart and forced her legs to keep running, for the first time in centuries, Minodora thought she was going to die. Her body was bruised and beaten, her pale skin showing dark spots of red, purple and blue, like flowers of pain that emblazoned upon her skin. She was used to pain as a daily occurrence, but her injuries would heal shortly after. However, here they were not, and she cursed her circumstances under her breath. Fangs gritted together as she accelerated her path through the nightly woods.
She ran through the forest, faster and faster than before, as her every step shook the ground with the sheer force at which she moved. The wind blew past her long dark hair, with her gaze looking back to see if her pursuers were still there. She could see them in the night sky. The moonlight was barely visible as her pursuers swarmed together. tried to gain distance and overtake her.
Those skeletal creatures formed from broken mismatched bones and dangling rotten flesh, some resembling humans, others chimeric constructs that bore only the faintest similarity to known creatures of the world. They followed her every movement, moving on the shambling legs with a speed not expected from corpses. With them she spotted wisps, some semi-humanoid shapes that passed through trees, without concern for obstacles. Such creatures were certainly not alive, yet moved all the same. They were anathema, without question or hesitation.
But they were the horde. Bound to a master that chose to pursue and destroy. Some thing that skirted past its own death, and sought hers. She had seen it command with words or merely a flick of fingers, and thus its slaves pursued in mindless aggression. But what instilled fear into her for the first time in a long while was its calm. It showed no fear, only ordered her execution by whatever means seemed effective.
The pain in her chest grew, intensity creeping and rising. It was localized to the wound she carried; a spear embedded in her chest. She took hold of it, the barbed end would prove annoying. She crushed the weapon in her hands, flakes of metal falling to the ground while she ripped the rest of it out. It clattered to the ground, as she swiftly let it behind. However the undead master had conjured it beforehand, it was gone now, and would be of no concern now.
Even so, a question poised itself. How had these creatures kept up with her? Her speed certainly should have shaken them, and yet they pursued without fail. She picked up the pace, the acceleration tiring her weakened legs. She needed no breath, but inhaled into empty lungs all the same. With only a moment’s notice, once she saw the creatures escape her sight, she immediately hid behind a large tree.
Motion stilled as seasoned reflex guided her. Carefully, she placed her fingers onto the bark, ascending the plant bit by bit. In both hunting and fleeing, she knew the weight of silence. Her pursuers had arrived. She moved across the branches, no motion present amongst the leaves, not even a jostle. Bit by bit, she crept towards some of the abominations. Anything that knew not where she was became easy prey. Though the skeletal fabrication below had no blood to offer her, its destruction would satisfy nonetheless.
Pain grew in her wound. She touched it, sensing something was wrong. Her flesh had healed, yet the discomfort had gone from an ache to strain: what once twinged now irritated. She tore at the ragged cloth that she wore and looked at her chest. The aperture had finished its healing. The blood pooled from her flesh and covered the wound, replacing all that was lost. But in its place was some symbol, a sigil of ill omen. It glowed a sickly, unnatural green, as she felt the pain originate from it. Its glow seeped across her skin. No, it was spreading. Both on, and creeping under her dermal layer.
Agony only grew, as she abandoned dwelling on it, leaping from the tree onto her prey. But it turned, matching her gaze as it raised its arm to attack, using a spike club made from its very bones. The strike landed, her flesh breaking and cracking under the sudden force. Her pounce was interrupted, but she landed on her feet. The pursuers all faced her, rather focused intently. It was too coordinated, or rather too specifically aimed. She leapt up into the tree branches, the leaves offering covering even with their leaves turning brown. Observing the undead below, her peculiar hunch was deemed correct. They had focused on her even with line of sight.
What form of ability was this? It boggled her mind. But time was of the essence. The master was soon to arrive. She leapt, shaking the branches as she shrieked. The tackle knocked a shambling corpse to the ground. Its blood was putrid and rotten, not fresh at all. Not good. She punched it, feeling internal organs and other vital components rupture and break. Each punch would knock around a normal human, let alone kill them. But nothing of the sort occurred.
The undead lunged at her with its arms out, the rotting jaw opening to bite. With a simple sidestep, its attempt was proven unsuccessful. She bit into its exposed neck, tasting its blood for herself. Utterly foul, as though trying to swallow sewage. Rancid scents filled her nose; slimy texture filled her throat. It was blood in the loosest sense of the term.
She lifted her fist, and launched it into the creature's head. The blow connected, as bone cracked, flesh distorted, and the liquefying remains of a brain all spurted out onto her. If she could hit it, it could die. Turning to see her other pursuers, including spectral appreciations and cobbled together bodies made of bone. It wasn’t worth even trying to fool herself with these.
After clenching her nails into her palms, she tossed blood towards the foes, and snapped her fingers. Her long fingernails clicked against each other, creating a small spark. Almost instantaneously, the liquid ignited, creating a blast that obliterated the skeletal opponents, scattering limbs that clattered to the ground. Any spectral beings that were caught in the radius of the explosion appeared to quiver and shift, their forms slightly dissipated. A smirk crept onto her face, despite the pain starting to surge in her chest. But her victory was not granted to her, as the pieces of the skeletal creatures all slowly moved on their town, returning to themselves. As though moved by unseen hands, what was once several skeletal soldiers now form a larger chimeric beast. The specters appeared to return to their previous state as well, unperturbed from the sanguine detonation.
With a screech, she commanded her blood once more, commanding it to poll beneath her and behind it. It pulsed out from her body, as she snapped once more. The blood beneath her offered lubrication while the controlled blast behind her propelled her forwards. Soaring straight to the newly formed beast, her fist pierced through, making way for the rest of her. Her path pierced through the large body, shattering bones entirely, as they fell to the ground, and moved no more.
She had only one type of creature to contend with, of which her methods were not sufficient. She glared at the ghostly fiend, its hollow gaze matching hers with intensity unbefitting something that was not alive. Would she run? She would not run, she had not died before, she would not die here.
A scent alerted her. The air was still for but a moment, as she saw something approaching at high speed. Jumping back, she saw a spear embed itself into the ground where she once stood. It was the same as the one she had just destroyed, black metal with an eerie glow. Looking up, the master of the monsters had made it to her quickly. IT was robbed in black, holding some staff and other items she did not understand, the obscure objects seemed important to the bastard. And it was safe atop the rotting body of some massive winged thing; it almost looked like a massive lizard.
The commander waved his hand, and she saw what he could do. Many more of the spears were conjured from nowhere, as though the air had made them appear. With a wave of its hand, the spears rapidly descended towards. Without hesitation, her heel turned, and she leapt off the ground and continued her harrowing flight away. The sounds of the weapons striking the earth with great force echoed in her ears.
Her path had no end or exit, only continuing until she would be safe. When would that be? She did not know. There was never an end. To the hunger, to the unnatural life, to the anger, to the misery, to the hatred, to the wrecked vermin called humans. Never was an end, never a change. Never anything but cursed survival. Why think about these things now?
Was she going to die here?
NO.
She would not. Commanding her blood once more, it swirled and formed around her arm, making a vibrating yet semi-solid facsimile of a sword. She found the nearest large tree as she ran, just thick enough to cut it with a single swing. In a single motion, she ducked and swung her blade, cut through the thick bark and wood effortlessly. As the timber began to topple, she spun on her foot, and kicked her other one into it. What was once a piece of flora was now a massive projectile, spinning through the air towards the master of the undead. She smirked; such an attack could not be foreseen.
A single hand was raised, as the lord of the necromantic forces conjured glowing symbols before him. Within less time it took for the object to reach its destination, the strange phenomenon created a small wall. The wood struck right towards the creature despite its distance in the sky. But the attack had not harmed it, the splinters falling off of the barrier and returning back to the earth.
Without any delay, Minodora ran once more. Nothing she could think of would work. And the tortuous agony in her chest was flared, searing within her. It was crawling bit by bit, enclosing on her interiors, as the sigil grew in brightness and size. She clawed at it, tearing her own flesh. Her self-inflicted damage was nothing compared to what she was feeling. All of the pains she had experienced, this held no comparison, no parallel, not even an imagined possibility. Her thoughts were limited enough normally, now all her mind could muster was running and pain. Nothing more.
That bastard. It was his fault. It had to be. That spear had done something to her. Put the mark her. Thoughts were fading faster and faster. The creatures were his doing, the spear was his doing, this spell was his doing. Some kind of magic humans called it. Understanding it was beyond her, or than knowing this would destroy her. Those things managed to track her after it entered her body. It was the why and how the suffering was this way.
The pain exploded, as she screamed, echoing in the dead of night. Her footsteps did not stop; she only commanded herself to go faster than she ever had before. Her legs accelerated without end, and so did her desperation. She clawed at her chest, ripping the flesh and splattering blood onto the dirt as she ran. But the sigil remained, even with her skin and flesh torn. Her insides revealed the swirling miasma, a crimson maelstrom of blood that formed her being. The sigil etched itself at its edge, the morbid luminescence creeping further and further towards her heart. It had a purpose, it was destroying her from the inside, inching closer to her very core. A certain, sure-fire attack that would kill no matter what. The only factor was time, which she lost with every step.
She would die here. This would be her end.
NO. It would NOT. She ran further, accelerating the blood within her. Every second pushed her to the edge, beyond what she thought possible. It was impossible for a method of killing to exist, and yet here it was. Then it should be possible to break it.
Shaking hands trembled. The pain wracked her mind, the very being beginning to stumble as the pain debilitated her thoughts. Her vision grew hazy from the agony. She might die here. But, she would decide that, and no one else.
Her head turned, spotting the undead minions swell in numbers, all aiming for her. Though they were far, their distance had not shrunk since, it was only a matter of time.
With everything she had, she pulsed blood into her feet. Her speed exploded past her limits, a burst of air exploding being her. Sonic waves echoed in her ears, the wind tearing her weakened flesh to pieces. Swiftness was her weapon, as was her last resort.
With sudden strength, she took her hand, curled in anticipation, and plunged it into her chest. The pain of self-mutilation was nothing compared to the magical infestation ravaging her body. Bloody tears swelled in her eyes, as she gripped her own heart. The sigil’s light reached out to claim it. But with a mighty pull, her core was yanked from her body, and free to the open air for the first time. The sigil’s light pulsed, having reached through her arms, creeping under her skin and towards her fingers.
Without mercy, she crushed her own heart, blood geysered from it. Such a small object released the red liquid in quantities not understandable or feasible, denser than metal, and all encompassing. By her will, she commanded it, as the blood collected and condensed. Crystallizing like ice, the blood formed jewels of vast sizes and of numerous amounts. With a wave of her fingers, they floated about, before hurtling through the air. The sound of launching projectiles shaking the air would certainly alert her pursuers, as did her superhuman sprinting.
But there was no time. The sigil continued to pulse, her piece of her body felt the crawling within, searing, stinging, scorching her very being. But her broken heart remained at her fingers, as she shoved it straight into her mouth. With a single, terrifying gulp, she swallowed it to return to herself. The sigil’s glow surged and soared, her very being shaking apart from within.
Her balance finally gave way, as she tumbled. Brush, plants, a wandering animal, all either speeding past her vision or colliding into her. Rolling, impacting, and spinning until her speed would finally cease. Thoughts grew more cloudy. The pain knew no end.
It slowed, as she found herself face first into a patch of dirt. She saw her hands; the pain was gone. The sigil fading from her body, the target gone, indistinguishable amongst the rest of her body. She felt her heart return where it should be. But it was weak, her essence thinned. It hurt to think, thoughts fading in and out, what was she doing?
Sounds of commotion were far away. Very far away. Or was it? It seemed closer, maybe? She stumbled into her feet; there was only one option left. What was it? She thought it was….something.
Instinct flared in the murky haze, her wrists cut, as blood poured from her wounds. With a snap, she burned it all. In an instant, she found herself tumbling again, this time through the air. The gift of the moon finding solace in the darkness, smiling on what foolish journey may entail.
Her vision returned to the earth as it grew closer. Far too close, far too fast. Her body crunched from hitting a tree, and fell into the forest floor. Time seemed to shift and still all the same. She pushed off the ground; it would not be hard. But her arms did not move like they should. Should they? Strength seemed fleeting, like vapors in the wind, merely ephemeral like all those who she had slain.
Had she killed humans? She was hungry. It was hard to think, but she stood once again. Legs wobbled, the structure within her appendages losing support quickly. A single step brought her forward, and yet seemed too much to bear.
But pain was fleeting as well. Her hands touched her chest. It was healed, as the flesh reattached and threaded itself tightly like string; the blood within forming new pieces of bone, muscle and skin. However, intact did not mean robust. The skin withered by the second, wrinkling and decaying quickly.
Another step forward. Another. Another. More. More. She could not count them. Every piece of her body weighed upon her, unable to support themselves. The shaking of her legs would not cease. But still, she must go.
Go where? Where to? Where from? Why? She could not recall nor reason. But go she must. A step onto uneven ground twisted her leg. A loud crack could be heard, as her balance gave out. The ground collided with her, pain restoring itself. This was the worst pain she had ever felt. Was it?
Shriveled fingers gripped the ground, and she pulled. Arms without strength where merely twigs, as she lay amongst them.
Pull.
Pull.
PULL.
Bit by bit, she inched closer forward, without reason nor destination.
In the distance, something caught her weary mind. A scent. Something familiar. Something to claim. To feed. The hunger would seek it regardless.
Some creature in the distance, from what she could tell with foggy eyes, covered it fur and with four spindly legs. It stared at her, and nothing more. The sweet scent wafted from a wound on its side. She begged her arms to pull, her legs to push off the ground. Agony surged, as she tried to stand. The creature stared as she reclaimed her stance. Her arms no longer touched the ground, and her feet wobbled. A weak grin formed onto her cracked lips. The fangs dry and aching. They would be nourished soon, anything to quench the eternal hunger.
But the creature’s gaze continued to match hers. Primal fear beckoned it to act, as it turned and leapt away out of sight. She tried to give chase, but she could defy gravity no longer. Another impact with the ground. No movement in her legs, they were torn and worn. She crawled, more and more. How much time had passed since she fled. Fled from what?
Thoughts jumbled and faded rapidly. She was tired. She was alone. She was forgotten. Who was she? She was….. , forgotten, even to herself.
She crawled reaching a large tree, with a crown of leaves that had yet to fall in the approaching season. What was that called again?
She did not know. She knew nothing. With all that was left, she placed her back against it, the firm bark offered no comfort, but its leaves would shield her. From what? Something. Something bad. Bad. Very bad.
Cognition had depleted. Only a single instinct weakly pulsed within her blood. Something important. Something true. Something that kept her alive for so, very, very long.
Blood. Need Blood. More blood. Hungry, more blood. Kill, get blood, more hungry, blood, need, more, blood, more, need, hungry……………………………………………………..
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