The waxy walls are a distasteful white. Two lovers lay dying on the floor. Upon the wax walls is a number… '11'.
Take Me With Thee
Oh, that day.
The day when everything was taken.
To that, I scream.
So swift was a life taken that for a second, I questioned if it ever happened.
My memories are burning, a flame I cannot put out.
Lay to rest my mind I would if I ever could,
But I can't erase what lies within my head.
Oh, my dearest lover, when you died I wish time was still.
Ill-content with fate, I wish for time to be irrelevant.
On the day I cheered my cry,
And in the night I think again upon your honor,
Make not haste in my memory please,
I wish to treasure every memory.
You were a warrior of nobility,
An actor who dreams to be free.
Shackled by your body,
You worked upon reforming your,
To discover your own mind,
Oh, I miss that time.
I hum your song as I sing myself to sleep.
If I could only fall with thee.
My dreams shake my day,
And my day shakes me.
I keep my last memory,
A yellow letter brought by you,
Before your eternal sleep.
I am horrified by it — but it is all I wish to keep.
I know you'll never understand,
I know you'll never forgive me,
I know you'll remember me.
I know I killed thee.
So take me with thee.
When I stand above where you lay,
I feel my heart divide.
Broken apart again.
If only you could take me with thee.
I said take me with thee,
Please take me with thee,
Please let me leave,
Please take me with thee.
I Stand In Dust
Old dust lies in my hand,
As the fire divides,
And I look to the sky,
I see that I'm still alive.
Driven by the flame I dive.
Wood cracks like a spine,
But in the end, I'm still alive.
And I will always refuse to die.
Warriors are driven by the flame,
And in my name, I'll change this game.
Roll the die and try to survive.
Clasp the sword and I will soar.
Tick the clock back in time and try again.
Repeat and repeat until it is the end.
Try to fight the devil you can't fight.
Strong with an army of the blind.
Dance and dance again,
Dance away from danger,
My friend why don't we dance again?
We will fight once again.
Fighting is but an honor,
With drive, I shall fly,
Retake the land of which I stride,
And return unhurt.
Fire and flame I flee what I shall retake.
With thousands dead, I will charge,
I will leave my mark,
I will be the last to depart.
C Stands For Cyanide
Bitter with a taste,
We can not pretend that time faults,
We are not equals,
We are not fair.
There is no hope,
Death does not spare,
Sacrifice shall not repent.
Within this world are many beings and creatures. The Magisterites, counselors of magic and educated in the art of medicine. The Exuroites, champions of fighting, trained in the art of daggers and swords, bows and great bows; any weapon that they are given they can master. The Wanderers are humans by nature; they are talented for all things magic. Together they are the Colectiolite, or at least were. For you see, there was once a fourth being, the Majorites, beings of chaos who grew agriculture by using their capabilities to mutate plants into food for their people.
However, as the lands became hostile, the Majorites fled Xylem Hill for the lands beyond, through uncharted territories and hell. The hostilities grew between the Magisterites and the Exuroites. The conflict reared its head due to the tragedy of Queen Redhelm Beckoning. The former ruler of the Magisterites was killed by Magisterite revolutionaries. Within the chaos and panic, the Exuroites invaded the land of the Magisterites to calm the chaos. The land they claimed, known as Mount Beckoning, was where the dead royals were laid to rest.
With this, Magisterite forces charged the capital of The Exuroites, Hellstead. Thousands died that day, and millions were displaced when Magisterite General Alexander Bell ordered his troops to set the city ablaze. Those who hadn't already fled their city were stranded beneath the surface of their city, in small wooden mines below the valley of Hellstead, named after the Exuroite capital.
With quick efficiency, most of the Exuroite population within the town, who were mainly civilians unrelated to the war, were killed or on the verge of death. After this failure in battle, the Exuroites fractured into two groups, the Hellstead-Exuroites, and Windstead-Exuroites. Each agreed the war must stop. Hellstead-Exuroites, ruled by the old Exuroite leaders, believed that to end the war, they must quickly strike the Magisterite capital, killing an equal number of people, if not more, traders, merchants, and travelers, who did not matter. The Magisterites would have to pay for their destruction. While Windstead-Exuroites believed that they must reason with the Magisterites to prevent further conflict. They followed their elected ruler, Gonkstill Exuroite, a prominent revolutionary within the old Exuroite society who strongly disagreed with the invasion of Mount Beckoning.
The Mines of Ethereal.
After weeks of fighting, the speedy attack from the Magisterites had slowed due to intervention from Hellstead-Exuroites, who took to the streets of cities with exploding barrels of gunpowder that rolled at their enemies. However, winds began turning both metaphor literally, as Magisterites used their knowledge of medicine to create AR, a chemical gas that soaked into the ground and killed crops, severely damaged the skin and lungs of people, and poisoned the heart slowly
Finally, after months of fighHellstead-ExuroitesExuroites' fell to the Magisterites. That left only the Windstead-Exuroites remaining. Their leader Gonkstill marched an army of six thousand through the Mines of Ethereal, buried within the city of Ethereal. The battle ahead was harsh as Magisterites intercepted a message and deployed their troops into the mines only to realize it was a trap. Swords swung, and bows shot as troop fire broke out across the mines just like the capital of the once Exuroite people, divided by the government and people's drift. Then it happened with a bow's arrow piercing the eye of the Magisterites' general, Alexander. With a shrill scream, they fell silent and dropped to the floor. The remaining Magisterites — now disorganized — quickly fell to the fast-paced attack from people whose homes were ash in the night. Afterward, the army of Windstead-Exuorites marched to the Magisterites capital and reclaimed the land as their own.
"Well, that is certainly one way to tell the tale," said Gonkstill, reading a leather book in their scar-covered hands "However, it has an overarching 'twisted' Magisterites plot that does not mirror the actual story. We invaded their land first. They didn't recognize our symbol of independence and peace, but our actions — ours — lost them their burial mount for their dead leaders," before handing the book back to Callstill. "Very well. I assume one of your nature would react like that, one of those who sees your country without glory. War brought us to power," they said before walking away.
It's the ill-hum of a clock that reminds Gonkstill of their tasks. He must attend a meeting at six. The clock currently lies at five. With a sigh and drag, Gonkstill places his hand into their pocket before receiving paper scraps. Years of disregarded torn pieces had over course of years, each covered in the stench of gunpowder that lined the pocket thinly. However, after deeply digging into the pockets, Gonkstill found a larger piece of paper. He took it out of their pocket before unfolding it. It was an old letter encased in the grey-yellow dye used in Magisterites works. The ink was dried and cracked with age. A tear welded to Gonkstill's eye as he refolded it and placed it back in their pocket.
Gonkstill rose to his feet, the clock ticking in the background. They were curious about what it would be on. The council had decided most decisions, and only a few choices and topics remained. In the depth of his chest, he felt that maybe they were negative, a poor choice he had made, yet the other part of themself remained optimistic about it. They walked through the downtrodden streets, where rain poured over the hills that surrounded the town. The sun's thin rays were overcast by torrential downpours and clouds.
The weather had never been quite the same since the Magisterites-Euxorite War — a looming sense of post-war dread laid in the sky and people. The heavy fires during the war caused the planet to undergo a global heating catastrophe. Pushing through busy streets, Gonkstill arrived at the dividing point of the city, where the city branches to extravagant upper-class housing, and another branch led to the poverty-stricken estates of mainly Magisterites.
Gonkstill took a right — through the suburbs — and eventually to the meeting house. The old floor ricketed and twisted with each step until arriving at the long oak meeting table. The table was several feet long, its rounded corners barren of seats, nine chairs in total adorned with gold and gems. Taking a seat, Gonkstill watched as the rest of the members arrived. It was in an orderly fashion that the council was seated as the clock struck six. Their first vote was on new housing regulations. This quickly turned into a heated debate. All was ordinary until the next talk came up. Alexander, general of Magisterites during the Magisterites-Exuroite War, had been moved from their grave earlier in the day.
Whatever happened to it did not concern the council. Theft of mere Magisterites relics did not bother them. Gonkstill felt a sink in his chest as the next question was raised. Recently, the divide between the people that resided within the Exuroite Empire had grown thick and thin. The Exuroite people connected closely, recent advancements in communications had made that clear, and the divide between Magisterites and the Exuroite Government had become obvious. Magisterites wanted representation within the council yet had not received such in the many years since the Magisterites-Exuroite War.
After the meeting, Gonkstill noticed a figure walking above him on a bridge between rooms. They smiled from the shadows. Gonkstill felt a familiar feeling in his chest, sinking damnation again. Gonkstill ran to the stairs and climbed the tower before stumbling upon the bridge to see the figure flee. The chase continued with clanking metal as the bridges beat with every step. The figure stopped, their head, a green-gray cloak trailing with them. Upon their shoulder was a metal Magisterites Band carved with the letters 'A. C. M'.
"Alexander?" Gonkstill asked curiously. "Hello again, old friend," said Alexander mockingly.