Legends of Belariath

Twerlinger

Death and Rebirth of a Kitten

It has stemmed from that conversation with the kitten, being told that she wasn’t worthy of him, that he wouldn’t want to be in her life, that he wasn’t after the same things as she was, and it broken him, shattered him completely, sending him into that spiral of depression and self loathing. The ripping of nails down that left arm, her name reminding him of her every time he looked, and he knew the obvious answer was to simply remove it, and yet he couldn’t connection to her, it still grounded him, and yet from that simple conversation, he hated her, hated her and who she was going to belong to. That darkness inside of him, whispering for blood, for violence, for the death of that hated one, to take her for his own, to force himself upon her and keep her under his wing, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, it would hurt more to break her as she would become, to remove that one from her life, to force her perhaps to make that choice and kill him, killing the other alongside and sealing that downfall between the pair.

And so the Cave of Dwindling Light had been visited, had been trapped, and then he had killed that one within it, scattering her form around the cauldron and writing out a warning, and yet nothing had happened, almost as if he was insignificant, and that enraged him, wanting to do more. Then the words from oh so long ago rippled into mind, telling him what he would need to do, he would remove that light within him, become darkness, and yet at the same time, that was the thought occurring to the other one, to remove the dark and become light once more.

He slept, the two fighting each other in mind, body tossing in the night, sheets ripped off, linen shredded by claws, until he woke at sunrise to find the room almost destroyed, and that was it. He knew it was time to leave, to deal with what needed to happen, and to return, in some shape or form. Bag was packed, items were taken for the journey, fae’s were sent to those who needed to know, brief comments to his employers, and slightly longer to the rest, all except that kitten, she didn’t need to know,, “Hell” he said to himself, “She probably doesn’t even truly care, or isn’t allowed to.”

Horse was taken, saddled, and then he was off, slowly riding away from his land and his life, the path taken off towards the west, as he had been shown during his death, the way to find himself again, that nagging doubt as to whether it was truth or not in the back of his mind, in the mind of the pair of them to be honest.

He had blinked in surprise when fae had reached him, and he had diverted his course to seek out the sender of it, meeting her in her place of solitude and sanctuary, where he told her of it all, what had happened in the past, and what he was planning to do. Convincing her it wasn’t her fault in any way shape or form, and that he had every intention of returning to her and the realm as soon as he could after the deeds were done. And so he had left, another fae reaching him as path lead him back by house, and he had stopped, had collected that kitten of his, without a word, settling her on horse and leading off out of the forest, directions taken from the missive the fae had given him, leading to a healers house beyond the forest and the boundaries of Nanthalion, and there he left her, to be seen to, to be treated to try and cure that deafness, before he left to continue his quest on his own.

Days taken, solid riding, not stopping except to sleep, and even then it was only what was truly needed, and then he was off, nothing seeming to happen on his journey, either a luck bastard, or something was watching out for, or over him in some way, shape or form.

Until a week later, when he was set upon by a group of bandits. The orange furred feline slipping from horse to do battle with them, spells and blade flashing through the air as he fought for his life against the group, and yet he was slowly losing ground, wounded, and driven back towards edge of cliff by the repeated attacks, his eyes narrowing as he saw the symbol upon the cloaks of those bandits, a choice selection of swear words slid from his lips, as effects were redoubled, and yet they were to avail, as hard as he fought, they seemed to be harder, tougher, faster than him, and the more he threw at them, the more they passed back at him. Till at last he was bested, foot slipping on stone, sending him stumbling back over the edge, spilling him into the air, falling from the cliff and down towards the stream that lay below.

Sword was banished, it would be no use to him, eyes closing as he tried to cling to what was needed, those words rippling from between lips, fingers flickering through the air, the spell produced, issued and wrapped around him, just before that jarring crunch as he landed, one arm below him, breaking under the impact, growl of pain rippling from between lips as his whole body collapsed and he passed out on the banks of the stream.

He came to some indeterminate amount of time in the future, all he knew was that it was dark instead of light, he was on his own, with nothing else, and his arm was splinted. A blink, head shifting to look around quietly, but there was nothing and no-one to be seen, a lick of lips, as he slowly moved, trying to settle himself onto rear, legs crossed before him, so he could try to put his arts to work, to find out who might be around, if anyone still was, and what their intentions were. And so spell was crafted, energy poured into it, and then it was slowly released, first one to detect signs of magick, but there wasn’t any, a second, to detect illusions, but once more, there was nothing out of the ordinary in the place around him. And so he sat, closed his eyes and just listened to the surroundings, trying to calm himself, trying to centre himself so he could bring all his thoughts to bear on what was happening around him.

At first there was nothing except the sound of his heart beating, then came the wash of water beside him, the stream flowing constantly from source to its end point. Then came a soft tumble of stones, as something moved along the cliff side, tossing stones down from behind it as it moved, then he felt it, heard it. That chuckle within his mind, or was it. Because it certainly didn’t like it was inside his mind, it sounded more like it was right before him, almost as if standing there.

Eyes opened slowly, simple darkness of the land around him noted, almost as if he wasn’t in the real world anymore, a lick of lips as head lifted to regard that other standing there, identical clothing, the only differences, the crimson eyes and the dark fur, “Darke” he spat, not moving, not trusting his senses fully.

“Yes, “replied the dark kitten, “It’s been a while since our last meeting like this, I’m trusting you’re not trying to hurt yourself too much for what that little slut has done to your heart. It will mend, like it did over Obsession” he said with a smirk.

Tri-coloured orbs narrowed, “Like you give a fuck” he retorted quietly, “She’s gone, that asshole has her, and there is nothing I could have done. And before you say it, No I love her too much to have collared her, I just couldn’t take her as mate, it wouldn’t have been fair to have shackled her free spirit like that, and I couldn’t put myself through..”

“The pain of losing her” interjected Darke, “You mean like now, sitting here, going to kill yourself, trying to rip her name of off your arm like you have been for the past couple of days. Grow up Twerlinger. She doesn’t care, she never did do, it’s all been a plot to further her life, to further her goals, and now she has what she wants, a fallen broken idiot to climb upon and push herself further. I mean, in all honesty, if she didn’t want the collar, she wouldn’t have taken it. And your a fool if you think he could have manipulated her into taking it. She picked it fully on her own behest, and now she’s thrown it in your face, that you aren’t good enough to be with her, and she has dropped you like the total loser you are.” He smiled, folding arms quietly as he just looked at the one on the ground.

“No, “said the kitten quietly, “That can’t be, I mean.” He shook his head, “No. I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe she did this of her own accord, he had something on her, something that was worse than being in a collar.” He swallowed, looking up at the darkness quietly, “That has to be it.” He said without conviction, not believing his own words now, heart sinking inside of him even further, and now that he thought about it, Darke’s words rang true; they seemed to fit what had happened perfectly. His head hung low lost in his thoughts.

The dark kitten crouched, hand reaching for chin, lifting it quietly, “Forget about her. There are bigger things to deal with now, and if you want to kill him on your return, then do it. But for now focus.” He said firmly. “What have you come out here to do,” he asked, not as a question but merely as a statement, “You came to follow her words, the Dark Mother’s words, to kill yourself, to separate what is between you and me. But haven’t you figured it out yet. Arshes and Stormwind were right, we aren’t separate entities. Hell I wish we were, but the truth is, this is you talking, this is those dark desires that you have stuffed away for so long, that have festered, and all she has done, is given them voice, to tease, to taunt, to torment you.” He stepped back, “And here I thought that you were the clever part of me” he said disdainfully.

The kitten never moved, those words filling head, fitting into places, and then a slow stir, a slow rise as he pulled himself to his feet, eyes peering into those crimson orbs. “So you are what I try and hide, and I am what that darkness abhors.” He nodded softly, “I think I understand now, two sides of the same coin, neither can exist, without the other inside. Without light there are no shadows, and without the dark, light will become jaded and dull.” He licked his lips softly. “So what can we do?” he said quietly, “Not as if we can take down a goddess by ourselves, even I don’t think we have that much power between us.”

“No,” was the reply, “But we could make a mark. She isn’t here for whatever reason; we can make a stand, wreck her plans and then do what she told you to do, to kill yourself. And in that we can defy her together, and perhaps, now we both are understanding, we can deal with what she has put in our way, and get that idiotic life of ours back on track, for better or for worse.”

A nod, hand extended from kitten, taken by the dark one and shaken, “Oh, and if you hadn’t guessed. Your hallucinating. So snap out of it, you have work to do.” Hand lifting, balled into fist, and then Twerlinger was slugged in the face, toppling backwards to the ground, hitting head and all went dark.

God knows when he came to, but it was light. Water lapping at his feet, arm by his side, no sign of splint, just a dull throb within it, bow set nearby, but nothing else. Almost as if that was all that would be needed to carry on. He sighed, before pulling himself to feet, reaching for the bow, before slipping its strap over shoulder, a flex of fingers, hand held out, sword summoned to his grasp, before he started off along the side of the stream. No idea of where he was going, but wanting to get out of this ravine, in case it flooded, and find a higher vantage point, so that he could seek his bearings, and plot his course towards the temple he had earmarked as the place of his death.

Three days later, having spent the past couple of nights on the move, resorting to trapping, tracking and killing wild animals and living off of them as it was, a little fire lit now and again to roast some meat, and then he was off. Taking his time to work his way up the cliff till he reached the top, a tree scaled, peering around to notice what he searched for not far off to the west, before he was moving towards it a little quicker now his target was in sight.

The temple was at last found, two whole days and nights taken to scout, survey and finally lay traps around the perimeter of it to trap the guards, each of them dealt with firmly, no living bodies left to tell the tale of this feline’s visit. Their bodies laid in graves and covered over to protect them, before it was time to step into Kirva’s own territory, and seek out those who ran the temple itself, deal with them and then start the demolishing of the eyesore, to give back to the bitch what had been taken from him in her presence.

He stepped to the entrance, a deep breath taken, before the tunnel was taken that lead from the mouth of cave slowly into the bowels of the enemy territory. Each step taken slowly and with care, bow over back, sword in hard ready in case it was needed. The passageway was strangely empty, till at last he came to the chamber, eyes shifting over the accumulated masses there.

A lick of lips as he slowly stepped forwards, eyeing the masses, weapons were brandished against him, chants were started, and yet he was quicker, a flicker of fingers, rapid chanting, and gravity was his weapon, lifting them all up firmly and quickly, a sudden slam into the roof, before he let it go, letting them fall to the floor, moving forwards even as bodies fell, another spell started, and as they started to recover, they found themselves pinned to the ground, their bodies heavy, limbs feeling like stone, with him standing before the dais, and the throne there.

“Mine” he said quietly, “Mine to destroy, as the bitch wishes me not to” he said with a soft purr, the spell cancelled as he set into action, blowing through the masses like a dervish, ripping through their ranks with sword and claw, tail hardened and lashing out as he passed, felling fighter and mage alike, till none were alive and standing, each body marked with the symbol of one of three gods, Ishtar, Gaea or AdenVer, nothing to the Dark Mother, as his intent was to deny her those offerings. Prayers offered to each of the gods except her, before he turned his gaze upon the cave itself, a lick of lips, closing his eyes as he started to build the power, setting out his choice in firm words, gravity at his command once more, sinking benches into the ground firmly, the throne ripped by spell and sword, and the altar’s destroyed in an orgy of violence, and then he back tracked, continuing the destruction as best he could, before he heard the ominous groan of the earth collapsing, and turned to run from the place, fleeing with all haste, barely making it from the cave before it collapsed, dust billowing from its entrance, covering him with it, and the hail of stones that followed as the cave collapsed, half burying the kitten with its debris.

The world went black for him, fingers flexed, clawed at the earth, trying to drag himself out, before body stilled, the exertion from such acts drawing its toll upon his body, cracking him and sending him to the tender mercies of death.

And so before the figure they stood, twin kittens, one of dark fur, one of orange, both regarding the figure quietly.

“Choose” said the figure quietly, “Which one is to return and which is to stay as forfeit for your actions.”

“No” replied the dark kitten

“No” stated the orange kitten, “We have come to an accord, we will both go back, in one form, for we are both of the same coin, two different sides mayhaps, but we are one and the same, and that is how it should be, for neither of us can exist without the other.” Arms folded on the pair of them, glaring at the moriel there, almost as if daring her to try and split them again.

“No” said the moriel, “One must stay. It is ordained”, she shifted a little in the dreamscape.

“NO!” they replied simultaneously, hands reaching out, ghostly swords formed in the air as they charged, the figure backing off, trying to avoid the dual swing of swords, failing, and yet all they could hear as the form was ripped apart was a chuckle. Three voices chuckling quietly in the aether, before that tug was issued to their form, ripping a growl from the pair of them, and all went dark again for the pair.

Eyes opened, staring at the ceiling of a cold place, not sure of where he was, or what he was doing, but ripple of cold breath from lips told him it was either a vivid dream, or he was alive. Hand lifted to trail through hair, black fur noted and he stared at it, “Mirror” he demanded simply, and it was slipped into hand, lifting the mirror to view his features. Dark fur staring back at him, but tinged with grey, tri-coloured orbs staring out of that face into the mirror. A lick of lips as he tried to work out what it meant, but he was sure he would work it out. Legs lifted to swing himself from the slab, a lick of lips as he looked around, clothing gathered and slowly he got dressed, feeling it shift as the magicks flowed through him once again from that amulet, and feet carried him off towards the entrance, a shift, bow picked up on the way by, fingers flexing to summon sword, feeling its reassuring weight in his hand, before he banished it again.

Reaching the daylight, he looked around, no horse, he sighed, and then moved off to slowly head back towards his home, his land, his lovers, his mates, and those he cared for deeply, sure that what had happened, and those voices that had chuckled during his death, would become clear at some point in the future. For now, he simply had to move on and take his life one day at a time, for better or for worse.

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