Hell's coming with me

❝ A masterpiece of tragedy, turning even stars into dust. ❞

Days had turned into weeks within a matter of time. And it had all come so fast that he barely knew what to do with himself. He had tried to avoid everyone to the best of his capabilities. After what had happened with Fauna... And then with Deimos. he just wanted to hide away, never to leave his room again. By the gods, he was back at the start. That scared good for nothing shut in that just wrote away his life. His parents must roll their eyes if they just knew that he went right back to his roots as soon as he got a bit of backlash. Or perhaps they would hush him, tell him it was alright. He honestly didn't really know. It wasn't as if they were unpredictable. It was all just more about the... fact that he had finally taken that step. And they had been happy, proud even. And they had taken the opportunity to finally map out the life of their only remaining child. And honestly, he couldn't blame them. After the loss of his brother it had felt as if his family had started to fall apart. And when his sister ran away he could just feel that sorrow surge every now and then. His parents were always somewhat mourning the loss of their lost kin... And perhaps also the sanity and well being of their last remaining one.

He had spent days writing short stories that didn't seem to go together. And every time when he came to the climax, he had thrown the paper away. He was frustrated, tired, but most importantly; he was stressed. He wanted to cry out, let it all out, but he couldn't. He was so angry... And upset... And all he wanted to do was beat something up, tear something to pieces. But as soon as the thought of him leaving his room crossed his mind, he just went straight back to his bed, curling up into a little ball as he whispered soft words to silence his intrusive thoughts. And when he would finally pass out, the vision he had seen of Deimos haunted him. He could feel the beating every time he closed his eyes and when he finally woke up from those hellish nightmares, he could swear that he could feel the bruises. But every time when he checked, there were none. He knew it was all in his head, it had always been just in his head. And yet, even if he knew that, he just couldn't convince himself. He really was stuck in a vicious circle. And by Xeion, he was going downwards once more. he was going to burst soon, he could just feel it.

And today... Today was just the day for that. Trembling once more waking up in cold sweat he jumped to his feet. Putting on a quick black cover and pants he grabbed his axe and ran out the door. He was a mess and so was his room, but he didn't care how people looked at him, nor if they would see what kind of catastropy his room was. He just ran. Through the hallways, down the stairs, passing by doors and places that weren't familiar to him. he had always been so bad with directions and orientation. But now that he really wasn't paying attention and panic was almost getting the better of him, he just kept on going. Passing by guards as he jumped from side to side. The dark circles under his eyes indicating the many restless nights he had had for the past few days. He really wasn't doing well. But by now he was used to it. It was just that he needed an outlet, he needed to destroy something, before these feelings would tear him apart from the inside out.

When he was finally out of the castle, the sun blinded him, but he kept on going. He ran. He ran as if his life depended on it. His eyes looking upwards as he had clenched his one hand tightly around his axe. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the heavy sunlight that came filtered through the water. And as soon as his pupils had adjusted to the outside, his breathing almost halted. He stumbled as he came to a halt, eventually falling over his own feet as he fell right in front of a person he could recognize out of a million. The fall had caused him to loose grip on his weapon as the thing slid over the floor, eventually coming to a halt a few meters away from them. Zuhayr pushed himself upwards, his hands and knees stinging a bit from the fall... But the Xailan man didn't pay attention to that. All he did was stare up to the other. His eyes big from shock as his body started to tremble. He froze right there. His breathing hastening as he could feel his chest tighten up. Anyone but him. Oh... Anyone but him.

❝ A masterpiece of tragedy, turning even stars into dust. ❞

His heart was beating in the back of his throat. He could hear the sound echoing through his head as time seemed to slow down. Because, right there, in front of him, was the man that had been the start of it all. He had never forgotten a face like that. The face of a murderer, the face of someone who had torn away an innocent soul from this world. A baby for crying out loud. His baby brother. By Xeion, he had only been a few days old. Why had no-one listened to him back then. Why did his words never carry any meaning with them. Why could he never change the future he saw. Why... Oh why was he cursed by all of this? What had he done to deserve this, all of this. What cruel mistress of fate had written his story? And why, by the gods, did it have to be a tragedy? It were things he kept on wondering, day after day. And in moments like these, it kept passing by him, bringing him sadness, panic and anger all into one clean cut package. After everything that had already happened in the past few days, this man had to appear in front of him. Why, it was just icing on the cake, wasn't it?

He swallowed carefully as he pushed himself back a bit, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He followed his uncle with his dark eyes as the man walked over to the axe he had dropped. He picked it up, played around with it as if it was a sort of toy. And all he could do was stare at him, as if he had just seen a monster. Fear was written all over his face as he turned even paler than he already was. The man spoke and the way he threw those words at him, it was almost as if he didn't know who he was. And that thought made him nauseous. As his throat tightened even more, he felt as if the world started to spin at such a rapid pace... That he had to avert his eyes to the ground below. He tried to stabilize his breathing, so as not break out in a full-blown panic attack... But by the looks of it, he was desperately failing. As his breathing hastened even more and more, the rest of his body started to shake as well. He balled his hands into fists, feeling the gravel pour between his fingers as his knuckles turned white from the pressure, he put on it. He was losing himself... And it felt like there was no way out of this. This was the end.

❝ A masterpiece of tragedy, turning even stars into dust. ❞

Everything around him slowly seemed to melt away, and not in the good way. It was as if the ground itself was becoming mud where his hands got stuck in. His knees, that were wounded from his fall from earlier, seemed merged with the path beneath. It was as if he was in shackles, chained up to the ground with heavy weights to keep him down. The background sound of the city life had long faded out, and he barely made note of what was around him. It was as if the entire world was collapsing in on itself. As if everything became so small, yet so dauntingly huge. It was suffocating him, was causing his brain to freeze up. It felt like he was going to die again. As if that vision, that he had lived a million times by now, would finally come true. Of him slipping between the cracks of the earth, to fall to his own demise. It was his most common nightmare, most likely because it was the first vision he had ever gotten. And just like every other vision he had, he was bound to experience it in his dreams. And even though he barely saw the murderers face anymore, even in his self made hell, it was engraved in his memories. A face like that wouldn't be forgotten. For what he had done to his family, to his brother. He had just been a baby. He didn't deserve any of that. And he couldn't help but feel like he could have done something, even years after the facts. Whispers that haunted him every night. Curse all of it. All of them. What a cruel world this is.

His breathing was just- Too fast. He felt like he was going to pass out. His dark eyes focussing on the man that had started it all. His pain, his curse. If it hadn't been for his actions- Maybe... Just maybe he could have stayed a Zinyra for just a bit longer. And then he could have figured out his curse on his own, not being pressured into a situation of pure torture and agony with his relatives in Ravaryn. And Zuhayr knew that he had the right to be angry at the man in front of him. For everything he had done to him and his small family. But he was a pacifist, always had been, and perhaps would always remain one. So there was no trace of anger or distaste. It was just pure trauma and sadness that came pouring over the man as he could clearly remember that day. Seeing it flash before his eyes- It made him sick to his stomach. He had seen so many visions, so many disformed bodies and gruesome scenes. And yet, the sight of a dead baby was still the most traumatizing thing he had ever encountered. The sight of his own baby brother, nonetheless. Family... To the both of them. Therion's own little nephew. What monster could do such things...?

He heard his name and slowly he shook his head, averting his eyes as he closed them for a second. Taking deep breathes, he tried to stabilize his own breathing first. It seemed to take ages before his heartbeat finally seemed to settle down and the world no longer seemed to spin around him. His chest still felt tight, but he had managed to calm his breathing down, allowing him to look up slowly. His hands moved carefully, clearly shaking from the overwhelming stress that was washing over him. The sorcerer slowly pushed himself so he could now sit down, no longer on his knees and hands. It was a more comfortable position... And as soon as he saw his own hands he could see that the fall had caused some small wounds to open up. They were dirty and slightly bloody... But Zuhayr could barely feel it as his body was still in this weird state in between a full blown attack and just... Anxiety. So he rubbed his hands with a soft motion, trying to get the dirt out of the wounds as much as he could with his shaky hands. But it was difficult and his breathing- He still had to manage it, taking a break every now often to collect himself and remain calm. He just tried to ignore that he was here, it would be better for the both of them.