The Corrupt Lacrima

Markus opened his eyes, he was looking across a barren landscape of black mountains, brown grass, and twisted trees. The wind felt wrong, not like a whisper, or calming breeze, but instead a howl, a cry, a warning. The clouds were dark, not with rain or storm, but with magic an evil and twisted thing. The entire landscape bled this dark magic, this evil feeling, this desolate warning.

Though it was daytime, the sun held no warmth, the light gave no solis. In this place, not even the divine could provide aid. He knew, were he to be close to the coast which boarded the entire country, he would see no lapping currents, no gentle waves. Even the water in this place threatened to kill, to suffocate, to destroy.

True to its name, the land cried out in anguish. Markus knew, the land was the least of his worries, and as such kept an open eye to the ground around him, and the sky above. He had been traveling through Sin for a few days now. He had just stopped, even though he felt more comfortable in the night, he knew this was the one landscape where even with his abilities the night would kill him.

He signed, being in Sin was bad enough, being in Sin without his primary magic was suicidal. Although Markus did not fear death, he was not very keen in hasting his end. After finding suitable shelter, he buckered down reflecting on the events of the previous night.

---

In front of him stood a person, at least a creature which resembled one, the being had pitch black skin, and long flowing black hair. Its eyes were sunken, hollow, and held no whites, and its mouth never opened, as such Markus had no idea if the being had teeth. It floated in the air, underneath it a stone altar, caked with black icor, blood and grime.

“You haveee donee weeell.” The being spoke, yet not with words. Markus ‘heard’ the whispers in his mind, hundreds, thousands of voices all at once speaking the words to him. It was maddening.

“My Progeeeny, you have grown strooongeeer,” it continued, the being was dressed in flowing black robe, which waved in a silent and unfelt breeze. The robe seemed to ripple, like oil on water, iridescent in color yet without light.

“My giftsss haveee not beeeeen wasteeeed.” it ‘spoke’ slowly, drawing out the words, as if the wind itself were speaking. The voices were speaking quietly, each individual voice but a whisper. However, their combined might made the words a torrent of noise, a cacophony of sound.

The being produced a strange orb from the folds of its cloak, it looked like a lacrima, almost pitch black in color, swirling with a strange energy. Markus could swear within its depths he saw an eye, a dark orb, looking back at him. Markus realized what it was, though he had never seen one before he knew the description. This Lacrima once belonged to a ‘God’, no one really knows if the beings are ture ‘gods’ but, their power is well known, and this Lacrima held all of its previous power. However, it was different then the descriptions had stated, it was not pure, even for God Slayer Lacrima standards, it seemed... Corrupt.

“In my hanndsss, is the poweeer of one of my seeervantsss,” the being spoke, its hands holding the orb lightly. “Likeee the giftsss I haveee giveeen you, this… creeeatureee could control the darkness, control the shaddddowsss.”

Suddenly, the being thrust its hand forward, and Markus felt an extreme pain in his core, in his very soul. Looking down he saw both the orb, and the beings hand had disappeared inside his chest, piercing the center of his being. He knew, somehow that the hand was inside him, and he had no exit wound on his back. Despite the beings arm being elbow deep inside his chest.

The feeling was unbearable, in that instant his entire world changed. He learned, all at once, that there was no true silence, that there was no true darkness, that there was a myriad of sights, smells, and sounds that he never knew were possible.

The moment the orb entered his body, his eyes started to sting, his ears burst, and his nose burned. Where once he saw bark on trees, he now saw individual fibers. Where once he heard silence he now could hear a beast, farther away then he knew, eating its meal for the day. Where once he smelt nothing he was suddenly flooded with the smell of the land, the dry dirt, the bark meters away, and the decaying corpse of animals who had succumb to the land around him.

Somehow, the orb had awakened his senses, increasing them to heights he only thought imaginable. The entire feeling was nauseating, his head felt like it was going to burst from the sensory overload. It was at that time, the being decided to speak, the voices adding to the chaos in his mind.

“Useee this new poweeer, eescapeee this lannd. Until you doooo, you will be without your otheeer gifts.” The being said as it disappeared back into the altar which it had summoned from.

The Primordial, Chaos, had given Markus another gift before disappearing into the darkness.

---

True to its words, Markus could no longer call upon the magic he once knew, he could no longer call upon chaos, upon darkness. Though, in the core of his being he could feel it. The Gods power, the Lacrima, it was like a cold shard in his chest, beckoning him, calling him. He just needed to discover how to use that power, before his lack of magic got him killed. He could tell, even though he was not sure how to use the magic, that this was a ‘Fallen God’ Lacrima, a master of darkness, of shadows.

He was lucky however, he had gotten used, at least in part, to his new senses. They had allowed him, at least for now, to avoid detection. Even if he did have a chronic headache ever since the orb was placed within him.

Markus had not felt this alone, this helpless, in years, not since he had first met The Primordial which had gifted him his magic. At that time, Markus was but a teenager, following a strange voice in his head. He held no control of magic, and as such was an outcast to his family. A family he had run away from only weeks before.

Even the sunset in the desolate land held no beauty, as it crest over the horizon rather than typical iridescent shafts of light marking its departure there was only thin, suffocated beams, small and insignificant against the blackness, the evil, that was the sky. Markus knew he would have a troubled night of sleep, every day since arriving in Sin he has had nightmares.

He had just pulled his hood over his head, and bundled his cloak around his shoulders when he heard it. A deep, breathy gurgle, as if something was choking on its own spit, or its own blood. However, this sound was not the sound of something dying, no, it was the sound of a hunter. Something was nearby, and it was stalking the black clad mage. Markus still was not used to his new sense of hearing, and as such thought the creature was far closer than it actually was.

Quickly, and as quietly as he could, Markus stood. Crouching low, he slowly turned, trying to find the source of the sound. He could hear it, it took a step, the sound was almost defining as Markus concentrated on it, he could hear the crunch of dirt, the snapping of twigs. The creature, whatever it was, was getting closer.

Suddenly, he heard a roar, from behind him. Markus barely had time to dive to the side, spinning on his heels he finally saw the creature. It was large, scaled, and growling. The eyes that looked back at him held nothing but malice, the teeth razor sharp. It stood on four appendages, two thick scaled legs, and two ragged membranic wings, at the end of each was a large clawed hand, talons like daggers.

Its head cocked to the side, as it looked at him inching ever so slowly forward. When its mouth opened, green liquid dripped out burning the ground below it. Behind its head, a tail whipped, at the end of which was a horrid stinger.

Markus realized what he was looking at, a Wyvern black and lightless. It was looking at Markus, very much in the same way a cat would look at a mouse before it pounces. In the core of his being Markus could feel it, the power, the strength. The Dragon was spurring him to fight, but Markus still was unsure how to call its power.

Then, the creature struck… Lightning fast its head launched forwards, Markus barely fell back in time, the acidic fangs coming to a close mere inches from his head, there was a stinging pain in his leg. Looking down he realized some of the creatures venom had burned through, leaving a hole in his pants. Markus cringed and backpedaled, diving to the side he dodged one of the clawed membranes.

Markus could not concentrate, he couldn't use magic, he couldn't use the Lacrimas strength, he could not think. His breath was getting ragged, coming in deeper and deeper breaths. Again and again, he dodge missing the bulk of the damage, however there was only so much he could do. Again and again his escape was narrow, however even then he got burned from a stray glob of venom, or a narrow cut from the creatures talon. He was getting raged, and without magic or blade he had yet to damage the creature at all.

Then, the black clad mages luck ran out, while avoiding a strike from the creatures fangs, he was blindsided with the creatures shield, a hit with the side of the massive appendage, knocking Markus back many feet. Suddenly he was looking straight into the eyes of the creature, and his entire world became calm. He was going to die.

All at once, Markus’ world cleared, his mind was empty, his fear gone. There was nothing else. He took in one more breath, his lung stung, his chest broadened. He felt as if he was breathing in smoke.

The creature reared back. It’s maw open, liquid again fell from its fangs.

Everything clicked… Suddenly he could feel it, the magic. His mind was clear, his heart held no emotion. Suddenly, everything seemed to slow. The creature, moved slowly, far slower then Markus thought it should, and far slower than it had during the entire battle. Markus spun under the creatures tail, backing up into safety, before standing… He cocked his head.

Shadows were streaming off his body, his eyes were once more alight with magic. The creature launched forward again, Markus held up his left arm as the beast snapped. The fangs fell, and stopped not a single one piercing his skin. Along the edges, where his skin and the fangs met, Markus could see shadows streaming from the points… they seemed to be protecting him.

He grinned. Finally understanding how to control his magic. He must be completely at ease, his mind clear, free of doubt, of emotion. Holding up his right arm, black darkness formed around his fingers, becoming needles of magic, talons of darkness. Markus strikes, his hand going deep into the creatures throat.

He understood now, this Lacrima made him a Slayer, a God slayer… He had the power of a Fallen God… The power of true darkness. Markus now had the advantage. The creature died, thrashing against Markus’ talons, giving one final cry.

“Goood, Goooood My Progeeeny” Markus heard in his mind.

For the next three days Markus traveled through Sin, slowly methodically. He practiced his new magic. Training his skills. He learned how to hone his senses, focus his mind, and concentrate shadows. He discovered now, more than ever, how much stronger his magic had become, he seemed to control darkness better than ever.

Though, he learned quickly just how corrupt the magic had become. It was just as chaotic, just as dangerous as ever, it seemed the Primordial had one way of doing things, and was certain to do it well. It was only once he returned, crossing the boarder out of Sin, did he feel it return, his primary magic. Once again, he felt hole, yet stronger then ever.

"Reemeeember My Progeeeny... Only With Darkness, can there be Light."

Notes:
Word Count : 2,128 | Total : 2,128 | Target : 2,000