Protectorates of Nimbus: Razikiel, Darkness Incarnate

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Is losing your family enough to drive you into the state of doing anything to avenge them? One man thinks so. He sought out a mystic hermit, bestowing upon him a dark gift.

Submitted: July 29, 2015

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Submitted: July 29, 2015

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Razikiel led a normal life. He was the captain of the guards in the kingdom of Lorath. He had a wife, Emilie. And two sons, Nathiel and Azazel. Being the captain of the city guard at the most prestigious kingdom known to everyone in Nimbus, is the safest profession anyone could yearn for. For Lorath’s military prowess was to be feared. The empire of Lorath stretched its grasp around three major cities out in the deserts of Umbaddak. Krishamesh, Nihadda, and Yutesh.

Razikiel dealt with common marauders. After all, he is the most renowned swordsman in the entire kingdom. He treats the men under his command as his brethren. He had shown great kindness and compassion towards the men he has under his command.

Everything was blissful and grand. Until a soldier knocked on his door, late at night.

The doorknob was rattling, and the loud bashes on the door woke him and his family.

“Dear… Answer the door, please..?” Emilie said drowsily as she pulled the bed sheets over her head.

Razikiel sighed as he wriggled out of the bed sheets and shuffles to the door to his living room. “Who could that be? I expected no one to visit me at this hour.” He mumbles.

“Sir?!” A man exclaimed, with a hint of fear in his tone of voice.

Razikiel opens his door to an exhausted soldier. He was panting and at loss of words. “S…sir!”

“Calm down lad. Come in, I shall fetch you something to drink.” Razikiel says as he steps aside, gesturing at the chair in front of his fireplace.
“You have my thanks…” The trembling soldier shambles to the chair, slumping down on it.

Razikiel closes the door and heads to his cellar, where his barrels of wine are kept. He grabs a goblet as he descends down the stairs to his cellar. He grasps the torch as he removes it from its holder. He proceeds to walk down the hall, with the torch held up high.

“Ah… Here it is. One of Nimbus’ finest wine.” He said as he mantled the torch onto a nearby torch holder.

He placed the goblet underneath the tap, turning the spigot. A cascade of lush, dark violet wine trickled down from it. Satisfied, he revolved the faucet again. He reached for the torch and clutched it, seizing it from the torch holder.

He paces back to the stairs leading to his living room. But something had made him discontinue his ambling. He peers over his shoulder, for he had sworn that he had heard a sinister snicker emanating from the pitch darkness.

“Who’s there?” He yells. But to no avail. No one had answered.

He shrugged his shoulders and ascended up the stairs. Dismissing the silly idea of someone trekking about in their home.

He shuts the cellar door behind him, sealing it with the metal bolts attached to it. He proceeds to saunter to his exhausted guest.

“Here you go.” He said as he hands him over the goblet of wine.
“Thank you sire…” The soldier said as he takes a sip from the goblet.
“Now, why is it that you have come here at such an hour?” Razikiel sits on the chair next to the soldier’s.
“Yutesh, my liege…” He said as he laid down the goblet onto the table the divides them, leaning his face a little closer to Razikiel’s. “Yutesh has fallen… No one had survived but myself.” He said as quietly as he could.

Razikiel’s eyes widened, his mind went blank from hearing such news. Is this true? Has Yutesh fallen? Impossible, the guardsmen of Lorath are highly trained. None can ever best them in battle.

 “Are you sure? Perhaps you are telling me a mere lie to catch my attention, lad.” His face had an expression of disdain. He simply could not believe what he was talking about.
“I would never!” The soldier exclaimed.
“Alright, alright. Settle down, you are going to wake my family.” He tried to be aloof as much as he could.
“But why spare you? If they had eradicated all of the citizens of Yutesh, I see no reason as to why they would keep you alive.” He brings his hand to his chin, pondering the depths of his mind to see a reason why they would spare him and not mere innocent townsfolk.

The soldier rose from his seat. Looking at the curious captain. “They… Wanted me to deliver a message.”
“They?” Razikiel said as he stealthily reaches for the hilt of his sword with his right hand next to the chair he’s sitting on.

The cellar door suddenly clatters intensively. Razikiel dolts to the soldier, standing in front of him, sword in hand as he gazes at the door being forcibly pushed. As if something is trying to escape from it.

He furrows his brows as the cellar door flew open and a shroud of darkness began to emit from it. He tightens his grip of the hilt of his sword, letting out an exhalation of breath.

Tendrils of darkness rapidly bursts out of the cellar door. Razikiel’s eyes widened as he brings his arm to his face, shielding himself from them. Although, it was not him the tendrils were aiming for.

Maniacal laughter is heard behind him. He turns to the source of it and bears witness to the soldier being engulfed in shadow.
“By the God…” Razikiel mutters as he swiftly slashes his sword at the man. Alas, the blade had simply passed through him… Or rather, it. He drops his sword as he shouts to his beloved spouse.

“Emilie!!!” He yells.
The shadowed atrocity laughs. “Worry not, sire. I shall take care of them.”
“Bastard! Don’t you dare lay a finger on my family or I will kill you!” He scowls.
“Kill me?! Oh, please. You cannot even make me flinch.” It said as it grasped Razikiel’s neck tightly, raising him and tossing him to the wall.

Razikiel groans in pain as he falls onto the floor. The door to his room opens.

“Darling? What’s all this ruck—?” Emilie shrieks as she lays eyes on the monstrosity.
Razikiel gathers all his remaining strength to shout. “Emilie, run!”

The shadowed creature smirks as it dissipates into a black mist, heading towards Emilie.

“No…NO!” Razikiel yells as the shadow passes through Emilie, causing her body to become paralyzed. The creature reformed behind her, grinning at Razikiel as it placed its hands onto Emilie’s head.

“Say ‘farewell,’ Emilie.” The creature said as it snickers.
“NO!” Razikiel desperately reaches out to her as his began to water.

The shadowed entity grins as it slits Emilie’s throat with its sharp claws. Emilie begins to succumb to her inevitable death as she drops down to the floor.

“EMILIE!!!” Razikiel shouts as he uses his remaining strength to crawl to her side.
“Ah, your sons are crying. Fret not, I shall tend to them also.” It dissipates into a mist yet again as it quickly lashes itself to the room of Razikiel’s offspring.
“Please, no!” Razikiel’s voice begins to tremble.

Soon, the crying had stopped. And his home had went silent. A faint laughter is heard afterwards.

“Why… Why?!” Razikiel howls as he weeps on his beloved wife’s deceased body. He buries his face onto her abdomen as he whimpers.

He fell asleep on her bloody carcass.

On the very next day, he stood from his wife’s body. Albeit staggering. He was at loss of words as he stares at the body for some minutes. Moments later, he knelt to Emilie and kissed her forehead, closing her eyes with his fingers.

He stood, grabbing his garb and cowl from the rack, next to the door of the house along with his sword laying on the floor. His mind was blank and so was his tongue. He couldn’t find the words to speak or anything to think about. He stops in front of the door, glancing at his deceased family once more before proceeding outside.

He turns his gaze back at the doorknob and grasps it, rotating it.

He pushes the door open, knowing that he couldn’t return home again for people shall think that he is the murderer if they will it. He closes the door behind him.

The city is quite lively today. As daily rambles of food and prices flood his ears. A woman passes by him and waves her hand at him. He simply ignores it and silently gaits to the gates of the city. He knows not if the woman was quite distraught or offended for his somewhat aggravating act. He is somehow changed.

He used to smile at the townsfolk and wave at them. But now, he is but a mere silent man.

He seeks redemption for his family. This shall not go unhindered! He shall try to kill that creature that he loathes most or die trying. His dazed mind was suddenly overflowing with rage and restlessness.

He wanders off mindlessly upon the endless desert. Striving. Searching. Hoping.

Hoping that he would find the creature that had taken his life away from him. His family and children.

Night shrouds the desert, Razikiel’s heart is still seeping with rage. He staggers. Falling down upon his knees as he looks up to the bright moon.

“Why…why must this happen to me?!” He yells to the heavens.

A hooded hermit stumbles upon the broken captain with a wooden staff. The hermit gazes at the captain. Razikiel did the same. He viewed the hermit with a look of wonder, squinting his eyes as his vision has weakened from drifting across the seemingly, boundless desert without food or even something to drink.

An awkward silence filled the atmosphere.

Finally, the old hermit spoke. “I see anguish and despair inside your eyes.”
Razikiel stood, wobbling and dithering. “I…I do not sense the sensations you speak of…”
“Oh, but you do.” The hermit said.

A faint zephyr causes Razikiel’s cowl to fall over revealing his face. The hermit grins.

“Ah, the most prominent captain of all the kingdoms in the whole continent of Nimbus.” The hermit revolves around Razikiel slowly as if observing him.

Razikiel peers over his shoulder. “Who are you..?”
The hermit stops in front of the young captain. “I am but a frail old man. No need for names.”
The hermit titters.
“Alright…what do you need of me…?” The distraught captain asks.
“No, no, no. I have nothing to ask of you.” The hermit tilts his head.

What is this pointless rabble? Is this old man playing the captain for a fool? If he had enough strength to force this old man to end this act, he would have done so already. Razikiel puts his right hand onto the hilt of his sword tightly. Weary of what is to come.

“That’s quite rude of you, captain. Has royalty taught you to draw your sword to old, weak men? What a shame.” The hermit snickers.
“No…But I sense a looming darkness inside of you.” The captain said, trembling from exhaustion.
The hermit grins. “A looming darkness? Oh, no. I would rather call it a gift. A gift that I can bestow upon other men such as yourself.”
Razikiel tilts his head. “A gift?”
The hermit’s grin turned Cheshire-esque. “Indeed. I may bestow it upon you. If you will it. My gift will bring you such immense power that no one in this world will ever best you in battle.”

The young captain’s eyes widened. Could this be a chance to seek redemption? To seek revenge? If so, he wants it. He cares not what it shall do to him, as long as he could avenge his family. He approaches the hermit rather drearily.

“Please...I beg of you, give me the power to overcome my enemies…” Razikiel said, quivering as he clutches the hermit’s collar with both of his hands.
“As you wish. Unhand me now, and I shall answer your pleading.”

The captain lets go. Stepping back as he watches the hermit thrust his staff into the sand. The hermit utters complete gibberish. A language that is unknown to him.

As the hermit spoke, the staff begins to radiate a purple glow. The zephyr turns into a malevolent gust of wind and the moon became crimson. As the hermit spoke intensively, the staff began to glow brighter.

“Servants of the dark! Give thee the power to destroy those who oppose him!” The hermit shouts as he points towards the captain.

A purple ray struck Razikiel. It felt as if it was burning. Although he could see no wound, he fell to his knee as the burning sensation grew intensively. He grips his chest, as he grits his teeth. He tries to subdue the pain.

“Nimiroth! I summon thine power to inhabit this feeble body!” The hermit yells as his eyes began to emit a white light.

A black mist dolts from behind the old man and towards Razikiel. It struck him with such force that he staggered back. He yells in burning pain as he fell once again to his knees, bringing his hands onto his head as he dithers and winces from the immense agony.

The hermit grins as he dissipates into the shadows.

Razikiel collapses, writhing on the sands, fidgeting as his mind is filled with murmurs. He’s losing every bit of his sanity as his body changes into something…dark. Something evil. Something sinister.

His eyes began to become completely blue as something protrudes from his head. His screams and the murmurs in his mind are the only sounds he could hear. His vision fades, as well as his consciousness.

The very next day.

He awakens, somewhat not feeling hunger, fatigue, nor thirst. He arises. He looks at his hands as they are completely shrouded in darkness. What has he become? Has he came to resemble the very creature that killed his family?

He screeches in anguish. “What have you made me become?!”

Then, he thought. “Perhaps this is the price of redemption… My eternal damnation. This…form, serving as my everlasting prison.”

A hawk with feathers as dark as the night sky latches onto his shoulder. He glances at it. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Alas, you’re dragged down here with me as well… I shall call you… Shadow.” He said, perking Shadow’s beak upwards with his finger.

Shadow squawks as Razikiel began to amble in the endless desert. Now, he has a reason. He has a target. He has the power.

He suddenly runs as Shadow flies, he disintegrates into a mass of shadow, as well as his hawk. The two intertwined with each other. As if Shadow was a part of him.

Perhaps Shadow is all that he has now. Perhaps it’s his sanity that the hermit was kind enough to incase it in a form of a bird. For that, he thanks him. For as long as these two live, none will ever destroy them. 


© Copyright 2019 Lauren I. M.. All rights reserved.

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