Contains: magic/fantasy whump, restraints, psychological whump, taunting, magic side effects (exhaustion, nosebleed), death wish, verbal threat toward a loved one (not present) vaguely alluding to noncon/SA
WC: 940
Deadness where there had before been life
The door to the seerās room burst open.
āYouāre going to find someone for me.ā It was the prince, of course. He slammed the door behind him. āAnd Iām not feeling especially patient this morning, so youād better make it quick. Iām not in the mood to have my time wasted.ā
The seer rose warily from the pitiful palette they expected him to believe was a bed, watching the prince stride toward him. His foe certainly seemed different: angrier than usual, agitated. What, precisely, was the hurry? He acted like he was running out of time forĀ .Ā .Ā . something. But why?
It seemedĀ .Ā .Ā . wrong. Ominous.
āThe northerner you saw before.ā The prince flung a gold chain at the seer, forcing him to fumble to catch it. āHe severed the magic on this. Find him for me. Now.ā
Severed the magicĀ .Ā .Ā .
The seer stared down at the bracelet which had, until recently, adorned his sisterās wrist. So, its curse had been broken.
The northerner you saw beforeĀ .Ā .Ā .
A cursebreaker?
Frowning, the seer dared a curious glance between the broken bracelet and the princeās face.
āIām waiting.ā
Hot, pulsing anger, tinged with apprehension, flooded through the seer. His visions had been unreliable of late, and more taxing, and they were only getting worse. Five years of practice should have honed his skills. Instead, the passage of timeāand all the anguish it had wroughtāseemed now to be taking its toll.
Even so, the seer knew he was powerless to refuse. No matter how much he wanted to fling the useless bracelet into the princeās face. No matter how much he wanted to demand news of his sister. To know if there had been retribution for this broken curse. If that retribution had fallen disproportionately on her.
He closed his eyes, fingers clutched around the frail gold chain. The other hand, the one missing two digits, unconsciously curled into a tight, malformed fist.
He hated his gift still. After all this time, the dizzying foray into the lives of others, the sickening voyeurism into their memories, their dreams, their most private momentsĀ .Ā .Ā .
It tore at his soul.
No matter how many times he put himself through it, he remained convinced that constantly splitting himself into a million shapeless fragments and then stitching himself back together piece by piece would bring about his end.
The vision rushed over him, indistinct and watery at first, then growing clearer. A party. A ball. Thereās to be a festival, sheād said during her weekly visit. He recalled, as if from another lifetime, the extravagance and frivolity of the vernal equinox, and the celebration that came with it. But his sister was thereādressed in brilliant, sanguine red. Why? What was this? A dream of hers, or a memory?
Shouldnāt be here.
Wracked with guilt, he flinched, sweat beading on his brow.
Find him. Not her. Him. The one who severed the magic.
Thereāthere. A man approaching, tanned, smiling uncertainly. An awkward, loping gait, a nervous bow. Who? Why? The man. That man. Familiar. Older. Here. Dancing, stumbling, laughing.
The seerās corporeal body twitched uncomfortably. His sister, she laughed, too. Quietly, gently, but earnestly. Lips brushed against fingers held aloft. Balcony. Stars. Flowers. Alarm. Fear. A kiss. A kiss? The seer balked, but he couldnāt escape, not while lost in the thrall of his vision. He watched, his heart bleeding, as his sister fled with tears in her eyes and the stranger gaped down at a broken piece of metal in his palm.
Find him.
Find him.
Pain surged through him, digging into his body with white-hot spikes, as he forced the vision to shift. Find. Follow. Raised voices and worry. A bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. I have to find her. Find her. Find him. The words mingled, nauseating, too loud. Pain in his skull, poison on his tongue. Find her.
A lonesome sunrise. A gold charm. Deadness where there had before been life. Find her. A setting sun, blood-red. A wrought-iron gate, barred. Find him.
āIām going to find her!ā
The seerās eyes flew open, the vision fading. It felt like dying, like inconsolable loss, like bleeding out with nothing to staunch the flow of blood.
His legs gave out beneath him.
āHeās not far,ā he rasped. āHeās looking for a way in. Looking forĀ .Ā .Ā .ā
I have to find her.
āTonight,ā he said. āHeāll be outside. South gate. Sunset.ā
The princeās face was pitiless as he stared down at the shaking form on the floor, then wrested the gold bracelet from his grasp. āYouāre certain?ā
The seer nodded, still trying to catch his breath. A hot trickle down his face told him his nose was bleeding.Ā
āYou grow more pathetic by the day,ā the prince said. āThe day your usefulness runs out, you know Iāll have you killed, right?ā
The seer knew.
If only that day would come a little more swiftly.
āStill,ā said the prince, āyouāve turned out to be more valuable than your worthless whore of a sister.ā
The seer lurched forward, but the chain on his ankle snapped taut. He opened his mouth to hurl obscenities instead.
His voice was gone.
āThen again, I knew that from the start,ā said the prince. āThat cursebreaker better be in my possession by tonight, or Iāll give your sister to someone who will find a use for her.ā
No voice, no strength, no weapon, no way to launch an attack.
The seer spat at the princeās feet.
The prince scoffed as he opened the door and made to leave, pausing only to say one thing more before he vanished.
āOh. Thatās right. I already did.ā
June of Doom Masterlist
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@juneofdoom
All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls donāt steal or repost.
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Contains: gore, death, blood, magic side effects (nosebleed, coughing up blood, collapse), blurred lines between reality and unreality, heavy insinuation of noncon/SA, past character death/minor whump
WC: 870
Threads of sorrow and screams
Dreams took him, but the seer couldnāt tell if they were sleeping or waking visions. It mattered little; they hurt the same. They wove the same horrors, threads of sorrow and screams spun into ghastly tapestries.
He watched, cowering, as the room that was his prison became the dreamscape, bringing with it a figure from his darkest nightmares.
His brother.
No, he thought. Not today. Not when their sister was suffering unknown torments, too. Not after the prince had so gloatingly admitted what heād done, yet left enough mystery to the details that the seer knew his mind and conscience could never, ever rest.
Please, no, the seer pleaded, but of course, it was just a vision, and of course, he had no voice.
The spectral childāfrozen in time within a round, rosy body, eight or nine years oldāmet his gaze. The seer fell backwards in horror, tripping over his chain. It saw. It knew.
Darkness, darkness, sucking him in deeper, devouring him, his soul, his entire being. Rushing, wailing wind. Seething, heaving breaths. Running footsteps. Shrill screams, the harrowing cries of someone in unimaginable agony.
Stop! he wanted to roar. Stop, please!
It never did, never, never, no matter how he yearned for escape.
His silent pleas became a voice, but the voice was not his.
āPlease, stop, please! You donāt have to do this!ā
His brother at his side. Older now. Seventeen. Cold, dead. A decaying corpse.
Not his voice.
āPlease, please, donāt! Donāt! Iāā
The seer clapped his hands over his ears. Loud, too loud. He didnāt want this. Heād never wanted this.
It didnāt have to be this way, said his brother, as wordless as he, yet his meaning dug into the seer like fanged worms, burrowing deep.
Light. Blinding. Piercing. A bed with bloodied blankets.
Red. Silk. A thud, a slap, a groan.
You did this to me. His own thoughts, never spoken. Haunting him, surrounding him, drowning him. You did this to me.
It didnāt have to be this way.
His sister sobbed, and his brotherās throat tore open, gushing blood.
You did this to me. His brother, seventeen and broken and bleeding and dead. His sister, weeping and broken and bleeding andā
The seer turned away, sobs still echoing all around him, but the vision endured. He waded through a scarlet puddle, bare soles burnt as if by acid, by poison. He stumbled, hit the floor, coated his hands in blood.
The man heād seen before, the northerner. Bested, caught: a fly in a spiderās web, struggling valiantly but in vain against his bonds. Sweat soaked his hair and tunic; his wrists streamed crimson from fraying skin; ropes bound him fast. He called for help, but he, too, was silenced.
Drowned out by those ear-splitting screams.
The manās struggles intensified. Just as he paused for a gasping, laboured breath, the chairās balance tipped, and he fell.
The seer reached out his dripping fingers as if he might right the chair or loosen the ropes. As if he might do anything.
The man flinched as if scaldedāas if heād somehow felt the brush of ghostly fingers over his bound hands.
The seer was whisked away again, leaving the northerner to his fate.
You did this. You did this. You did this.
His sisterās cries grew silent.
No.
Noā
A window, a roar of frustration, a moonlit night. The seer fell to his knees, despairing. Such a power, such a gift, and when it mattered the most, it was useless.
āIdiot! Sneaking off like that! Iāll have his hide when he gets back!ā
The seer staggered toward the glass. A man, unmistakably furious, pacing anxiously. Concern written on his features in strokes of candlelight.
Blood stained the floor within, soaking in the ooze of his brotherās slashed throat. Red footprints, a trail of gore smeared over old wooden floorboards. Tainted. Cursed.
It didnāt have to be this way.
A fresh scream in the night, muffled and terrified. The fleshy slap of skin against skin.
It doesnāt have to be this way.
Heād never wanted this. In all his anger, in all his rage, in all his hatredāheād never wanted any of this. Sobbing, he slammed his fist against the glass.Ā
It shattered.
The man inside leapt away from the explosion of glass shards, startled and astonished. The seer gaped down at his hand, bleeding now, littered with cuts.
Did IĀ .Ā .Ā .Ā ?
When he peered inside again, both his brother and the man had their gazes fixed on him.
Did they hearĀ .Ā .Ā .Ā ?
Can they see Ā .Ā .Ā .Ā ?
Baring red-stained teeth, with blood bubbling over bruised, greying lips, his brother smiled.
The seer gasped awake, sprawled on the floor of his room, chain tangled around both legs as if heād been writhing violently in his sleep. He coughed, panicking, clawing at his throat with bleeding fingers. Droplets of red sprayed from his mouth with each cough. Heavy wetness flowed from his nose again.
How did IĀ .Ā .Ā .Ā ?
Desperation, adrenaline, imagination, or madness? He didnāt know.
Certain his throat was torn apart, certain he was about to die, the seer let his eyes close and his body fall.
Somewhere beyond his prison, a shrill scream strangled into terrified, deathly silence.
June of Doom Masterlist
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@juneofdoom
All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls donāt steal or repost.
Tbh the water mage having a column of water for a lower half wouldn't really be much of "body horror", just rather inconvenient. Like imagine gushing like a flash flood everywhere you go, leaving a long drenched trail in your wake. Or imagine the awkwardness of flowing up the stairs or going over a grate with holes and then going right through the cracks. And worst of all, when thirsty animals try to drink what passes for your "shins" š (i'd love to see someone draw this) XD
Well that would depend on the viscosity of the water, wouldnāt it?
Would it more like, well, flowing water? Or would it be more like jelly? Being thicker and such.
And it could be other parts of the body instead of the lower half. Or it could be harder to maintain the body form. Even if itās really cold and itās starting to freeze the water. Itād be harder to move, because now frozen body. Which probably makes it brittle for the smaller portions. Like toes.
Could also look like a more melting effect, too, before turning to straight liquid. Also, would there be color? Like how if thereās more sediment etc in water, it looks cloudy, and even brown. Or would it lose color? Becoming more translucent? Would you see through the skin first, into the muscles, then organs and even bone at the more final stage?
Would it take more energy to hold the form together the further into the process they go?
