#gaebral

May DWC 2025 Day 3 - Linger, Gaze Warnings: Death, implied child death

~ Years Ago ~

He wandered south one morning, driven not by instinct, but by a pull in his core that had no name. It had been months since Gaebral breathed false life into him. Months of observing, months of listening, months of waiting. He had lingered at the edge of ruins reclaimed by moss and shadow, he had studied mortals in cities, drifting among them silent and unnoticed.

But today was different. 

There was a weight inside him; not grief, not joy, not even hunger, something that writhed beneath this flesh. He did not know what to call it, only that it stirred when he looked too long at the horizon. 

The small village was well out of the way of any big city, soft and unguarded in the early morning haze, flanked by thick trees and tall grass. There was no gate, no guard, just life. Children shrieked with laughter as they chased one another around low wooden fences, a husband and wife leaned close in the frame of a doorway, a vendor argued with a farmer over the price of his produce. The air smelled of hearth smoke, pine sap, and bread. Ideal, lovely, perfect.

It should have been a place to observe, but something more awoke in him as he stepped into the square. Something deep, something old. The villagers noticed him, of course, people always did when he showed himself. They did not whisper or run, they lingered. Their gazes caught on his face and held fast, not from fear but something closer to awe. There was something in his stillness, something in his gaze. His beauty was unearthly, but more than that, he exuded a strange, soft gravity. A presence that called to them.

He tried to smile. The motion was slow and mechanical, muscles responding to studied mimicry rather than feeling. It did not reach his eyes, but it was enough.

A boy ran up to him, grinning. “Are you an elf?”

“I do not know,” C replied, voice serene.

The boy laughed, delighted. “You talk funny.”

“So do you.”

The boy’s mother called him back, but smiled at C with a look so gentle it might have been trust. He moved deeper into the village. A baker handed him a loaf of bread with no expectation, a seamstress pressed an embroidered handkerchief into his hands, even a dog followed at his side without prompting, tail wagging. He nodded, tried the smile again. Still hollow, still not right.

But they loved it anyway.

Then an old woman stepped into his path. Her eyes were dark and clear, her expression unreadable. She looked at him too long as though she knew. “You’re wrong.”

He tilted his head. “Wrong?”

“You were never meant to be here. Not like this.” Her voice trembled, not with fear, but understanding, perhaps recognition.

He reached for her. Not to harm, but to know. She did not flinch, but her eyes welled with something like grief. 

And then everything slowed.

A hush fell. Birds froze mid-flight, leaves hung in the air, unmoving, the villagers’ laughter stopped in their throats, the wind stilled. He took a breath, and the world tore.

There was no scream, no blaze, no violent shatter, just absence. A sudden silence that erased what had once existed. Where life had been, there was now only emptiness. A scar of ash that floated weightless in the still air, and C stood at the center of it.

The woman, the people - gone. The trees, the houses, the laughter. All gone.

No grief stirred in him, no regret, no confusion. Only fascination. He looked down at his own hands, they did not tremble, they simply existed; pale, perfect, untouched by the annihilation they had birthed. Ash clung to his shoulders, it moved like snow, yet did not fall, it drifted and refused to touch the earth. He closed his eyes. He had done this, he had unmade. Not by intention, not by knowledge, but by will. Raw, shapeless, blooming within him like a second heartbeat.

When he opened them, Gaebral was there, silent, regal, and watching. His cloak did not stir and his face held neither scorn nor praise. “You felt it,” He said, voice low and cold. “Didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“What did it feel like?”

C’s lips twitched. Not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “Like remembering something I was never taught.”

Gaebral stepped beside him, surveying the ashen emptiness where life once stood. “They trusted you.”

“Yes.”

“And you destroyed them.”

“Yes.”

A long pause, then Gaebral nodded once. “Good.”

The Construct looked up at him, not with yearning, but with a quiet, fierce devotion. He wanted to hear that word again over and over: ‘Good’. He wanted his creator to see what he could become. “I want to learn more,” he said. “Show me how to do it again.”

Gaebral’s eyes gleamed like twin moons. “In time.”

Ash still hovered, caught in the same moment of death. C lifted a hand and watched it spin around his fingers like dust caught in orbit.

It was not grief he felt. It was wonder. This was power. This was purpose.

And one day, he would give the world to Gaebral, stripped of breath, stripped of defiance, its bones clean and ready for the dead to reign. He would smile again, too. Maybe next time, it would even reach his eyes.

@daily-writing-challenge​

Gaebral Silwyn

August Daily Writing Challenge Day 1 - Darkness

The Construct gazed out over the ragged landscape and the sweeping darkness of The Maw, fingertips idly tracing the delicate ridges of the soulkeeper crystal he had acquired nearly a year ago. One year was nothing but a speck of dust for one such as ‘C’, yet he had learned so much from this place and the inhabitants, explorers, and even the banished within.

It was here he was met with a Crossroads of sorts, and it was there he still stood with infinite pathways from which to choose - yet he found it difficult to stray from what had already been chosen for him. Chosen for him. Was the feeling of free will just a farce all along? Was he made to choose only this path or did he fully believe in the cause? He wasn’t so certain anymore and his recent conversations had only muddied his thoughts.

“Why do you obey and follow him so blindly?”  The feminine voice broke the comfortable silence.

“You are one to speak on having loyal subjects obey blindly.” It was meant to be a tease, yet was delivered more harshly than intended unbeknownst to himself. “This is the reason for my…being. It is my purpose”

“It is dangerous to confuse what you are made to do and what you choose to do. Perhaps you should look inside of yourself more closely and decide if this is your purpose, your life’s path, or someone else’s.”

Her words faded from his thoughts as he clutched the crystal tighter. It was a peculiar ‘acquaintanceship’ the two had formed, especially since his presence directly impeded her penance. Yet she never tried to stop him, at least not physically. 

Free will had often been the topic of their brief conversations. It had been weighing on his thoughts for a long time. After being a part of this world and walking among its people for nearly a decade now, The Construct had often found himself questioning everything that had been already present within his mind - and his Master wasn’t always there to remind him of their path. With their presence growing and ever-expanding, C was alone more often than not.

With a fervent expression, he made his way to the portal, through Oribos, and into the Arbiter’s chamber. Unfurling his grip from the soulkeeper crystal, he raised his hand in offering. “I present these souls for your judgement.” There was a wave of euphoria in his defiance, or perhaps over the anticipation of his inevitable chastening. It wouldn’t be the first time he had rebelled for attention. Anyways, he had already retrieved many a soul for Gaebral, perhaps it would provoke a different feeling to do something unexpected.

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 7 - Soul

“I wouldn’t go out there, Mister. Not without an escort, and uhhh, maybe some ‘proper’ attire.” The young soldier quipped towards The Construct with a half-amused, half-boggled expression. Seeing a man in The Maw donning a three-piece, glen plaid suit was not something one witnessed every day. No doubt they all thought him to be some eccentric noble. This wasn’t the first time he was given such a warning, nor would it be the last. Mortals: Always so assuming. They had more to worry about than he did, even in this ‘hidden’ location. Ve’nari’s Refuge was deemed safe enough and where the majority of the military and mercenary camps had been located, but that was of little interest to The Construct. He could be around mortals anytime he wished, but he had yet to explore a realm such as this one.

A realm that housed the most vile and irredeemable souls that the world had to offer, so naturally he found himself drawn here out of pure curiosity. What would one had to have done in their life to deserve this as their final resting place? Not that all the souls currently housed within the Maw were reprehensible. For years The Arbiter had been dormant, and every soul that had passed through since would end up here, and would continue to end up here until that issue was resolved. If it would be resolved. C didn’t care one way or another, it didn’t affect him. This simply presented another opportunity for exploration, knowledge, and a plethora of souls to deliver to his Master. 

He ignored the soldier’s warning and stepped out of the refuge to survey the fiery wasteland, wandering down a worn path to take in all the sights like a tourist on vacation. He had been promised ‘a hopeless maze of torment chambers and endless despair’, and thus far he was quite pleased. These Mawsworn were decent at their jobs when it came to the torture of souls in their capture, although many of their methods The Construct deemed rudimentary. He supposed with the multitudes of new victims constantly entering through the River of Souls that it was difficult to give each individual the special attention they deserved. Still, it was fascinating to watch the others work.

They didn’t seem to pay him any mind, in fact, at some point The Construct became convinced that both the Mawsworn and the souls were unable to see him at all. They never looked his way, even when he was within mere feet. Naturally, this presented more questions than he already had, and there seemed to be no way to get answers from any of the Maw’s inhabitants if he did not exist to them. Perhaps some form of natural defense system to keep him safe, or maybe it was Gaebral’s doing.

Or just maybe he himself did not possess a soul. 

It would explain why the Mawsworn had no reaction to his presence. Could the souls only sense other souls? Did the Mawsworn have souls? His brow furrowed in thought, mimicking an expression he had seen many a mortal do when they were in deep contemplation. All of Gaebral’s other ‘children’ seemed to possess a soul, it was like a source of energy that was needed to ensure the creation would not become a mindless ghoul. It was the reason The Construct’s resurrection of Daryia, Gaebral’s beloved companion, had failed so miserably: He raised her without a soul. But he was much younger then, and had since learned so much. So of course he had to have a soul, it was unreasonable to think otherwise; not that it would stop that thought from occasionally crossing his mind. Gaebral had never specifically told him of his origins or what he was, and The Construct was beginning to think that perhaps not even his Master knew the answers to those questions.

He would eventually find an explanation, but for now his new surroundings kept most of those restless thoughts at bay. He had a job to do. The small lantern-like device that had been dangling from his belt was removed, and within it placed an icy blue soulkeeper crystal that he had acquired from some ‘Maw Walker’. The nearly white light projected out in all directions, immediately absorbing any trapped souls that it touched. 

This was almost too easy. Gaebral will be so pleased.

The Construct’s feet carried him unconsciously down a familiar path, through the dark, twisted forests he had traversed many times before, and finally into an intimate clearing that housed a long forgotten cemetery. A black cloak shrouded the imposing figure standing among the graves nearby; the White Lady only allowed the briefest glimpse of the pale face beneath. The cheshire grin that split his Master’s lips curled upwards before a bare palm was outstretched in silent offer, of which his creation gratefully accepted.

It felt as if it had been ages since The Construct visited with his creator. An odd concept for a creature that could spend literal months watching the decomposition of a body and assuming only hours had passed. Time meant nothing, until it came to his Master. Their time together was fleeting now that this particular creation had grown and thrived exceptionally well within that growth. Yet creation never went too long without creator, especially since their mental bond would allow them a certain intimacy despite their distance. However, It was always the touch that The Construct craved.

Drawn into His benevolent embrace, C closed his eyes and silently reveled in the euphoria he felt in every single touch. Many had assumed that the peculiar man had no compassion for others, or no feelings at all for that matter, but they were very wrong. They were simply undeserving of all he had to offer.

Gaebral pushed his hood back before leaning down to press cold lips to his construct’s forehead, then pulling away just enough to get a good look at his pristine features. “You traveled so far this time.”

The Construct lifted a hand, tracing pallid digits along his Master’s scarred cheeks and forehead. He had always found these scars from his mortal life beautiful and was pleased that Gaebral chose to keep them, even if he was no longer that same man. “Yes, and there is so much I have yet to explore. I brought you a gift.” From within his coat pocket, he retrieved and presented the icy blue soulkeeper crystal. Glimmering brightly, It practically vibrated with energy from all the souls trapped within. He delicately placed it into the other man’s hand and curled his fingers around it. “These are for -you-.” Purposefully stressing the final word, Gaebral would understand what he meant.

Indeed he did. Inky black eyes briefly studied the crystal while giving his construct an affectionate caress on his cheek. With a step backwards, he abruptly clamped both hands around the gift, shattering it in the process. Instead of roaming free or being swept back into the Maw, the souls were absorbed into his cold, marred flesh. The runes etched into his skin and armor shimmered with vitality, spreading from arms to core, and outwards from there. Vivid pinpoints of light twinkled within his shadowy gaze, like staring into the Great Dark Beyond on a cloudless night. Then just as quickly as it began, the process ceased and Gaebral dropped the remnants of the fractured shard onto the ground.

The Construct watched with enrapt awe as he could feel and practically see the power and energy buzzing through the air around his Master; he was clearly pleased. “What would you have me do next?” He inclined his chin as the scarred hand once more cupped his smooth cheek to draw him in closer.

Gaebral’s typically deep, hollow voice now resounded with various timbres and intonations of many speaking all at once, “Bring me more.”

Talonoa usually ‘woke up’ before the sun crept over the horizon, this had been a habit of his for years even after a late night. He had never been good at sleeping in, but these days he didn’t even seem to need sleep in general. He went through the motions of laying down, closing his eyes, and drifting into some type of semi-unconscious state, but it wasn’t sleep. More of a habit leftover from a lifetime of having to do so.

It wasn’t the only habit he no longer needed to do; food and drink seemed to be optional now as well. When he fought, he never got winded nor was he sore the following day. He could keep fighting, keep running, keep doing anything he wanted to do without ever growing weary and needing to rest. Whatever Gaebral had done to him all those years ago had left him at peak condition without any sign of deterioration. Eventually, there would be a catch, at least so he assumed. There always was with Gaebral. Maybe his burden was to become immortal: To never age another day while those around him continue the cycle of life. A constant process of having to watch everyone you love die. He pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, feeling the faint pulse still present. What a strange thing, to be alive and, in many ways, not at the same time.

He slipped quietly out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him so as to not wake his sleeping Lioness. With coffee in hand, he sat on the front porch and stared out over the quiet landscape of the Valley of the Four Winds. This had become their escape from the world, and while Talon had felt the inevitable draw of war after too much inactivity, he could tell that Naralinthe was growing weary of that life. 

Maybe it was time for the next chapter of their lives to begin.

It was a conversation they had discussed a handful of times before, but never actually arrived at an answer for a variety of reasons. They were both older, and with everything happening within his body he wasn’t entirely certain he was still viable; at least they had suffered no loss of intimacy. Decades ago Talon had lost his wife and two children, and outside of his current relationship those were the years he cherished most. More recently he had found out that Daxion was his biological son, but Talon had missed out on all of the grown man’s formative years. 

He missed it dearly. He missed being a father and raising a child with a woman he loved. More than anything it’s what he wanted, before whatever was happening within took his mind and his soul. That would be the worst case scenario, but it was always a possibility. For so long he had been avoiding getting tested, fearful of what the outcome may be. This is what he wanted, he needed to know and soon he would. 

He scrolled through his missed messages on his comm device, sitting up straighter as he found the one he had been waiting for. Eyes quickly scanned the doctor’s findings from his reluctant trip yesterday, and a restrained smile spread over his lips. Of course it wasn’t just his decision, and if anything he at least found comfort in the fact that he could still become a father.

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 25 - Immortal

The concept of immortality was difficult to grasp when one had only been ‘alive’ for approximately a decade, if that. This body that The Construct occupied had clearly been alive for longer, and all of the pieces lovingly put together were those of adults. As with all elves, age was near impossible to discern. If he had to guess, The Construct would assume that his soul, souls plural, or whatever it was that gave him life within this body was that of an adult as well, or perhaps that of some immortal being with their memory wiped clean or safely stashed away. There were times that this brain or this ‘soul’ within remembered instances of past lives, but there was never much there to grasp onto, nor was he all that interested in seeking out his origins any longer.

The Construct was an enigma, not only to those around him but to himself as well. Much of his early life he had assumed he had been risen as a Death Knight, but the differences were glaringly obvious now. Gaebral had not shared much with his creation, other than naming him his ‘ultimate masterpiece’. There had been no others like him afterwards, leading C to believe that perhaps he was simply a lucky accident, unable to be recreated. Or maybe whatever it was that ultimately brought him to life had been some ancient being in search of a new refuge that Gaebral had managed to coerce. The possibilities were endless and the inquiries went largely unanswered.

At some point, The Construct had given up seeking direct answers and instead devoted his time to pushing the limits of his unconventional powers. There was no purpose in trying to categorize himself, and he decided that he must be something new, something yet known to the world and written about in their books - or he would have discovered it by now. 

An anomaly contained within what appeared to be a normal elf’s body.  It really was the perfect hiding spot.