Character Story: Deliah (Part 2)

Deliah, now gone to carry out her orders, leaves the Sentinel Tribus, alone with his thoughts. However, shadows from the past come back to haunt him.

The Sentinel let out a tired breath. The light of the screens burning his eyes, his muscles ached from the simple act of standing and subsequent fall. Sweat dampened his brow. With Deliah gone, the voices once again took her place. Whispers in the distance, from the corners of his room, shadows moving at the edge of his vision, just beyond the pale light of the screens.

   “Where are you?” He whispered, tired eyes scanning the room. He hadn't gotten any sleep the past few days, the voices keeping him awake.

   “...Here” He heard, constantly murmured from the shadows. A voice without a source. Only him, alone in his dark room at the top of the tower. But no matter how tired and worn he may be, he could never let her see. That lively woman, always trying to help him escape this prison. With the whole city too worried about losing their precious Sentinel to the dangers of the world outside, her genuine trust in him was something too valuable for him to lose. And so in this cursed tower he must stay with these dark figures and haunting voices.

   “...Here”

   “Where are you?!” He exclaimed, a wave of force exerted from his body sending what few possessions he had flying around the room. But no one was there.


   “...Here”

He looked around at his few belongings now scattered with sadness, tears welling up behind his eyes. All this power, and still so helpless. Among them were the many gifts given to him from Deliah herself. Most were artifacts salvaged from the Dead-Zones her husband could not sell, including his favorite; a chessboard complete with black and white marble pieces, now scattered across the floor.

His consciousness could search the entire city and beyond its walls, but still the source of the voices eluded him and so did the full blood. 'That’s it.' He thought to himself. 'The full-blood must be the source.'

Laughter scraped the edge of his senses like rusted steel. A sickening laughter that sent chills through his frail bones and something more primal; fear. 

   “...Wrong.” He heard whispered through the laughter, amusement in its tone. More detail had come through the whisper, that tone had given him something. Not a barely audible murmur but a comprehensive voice, a male voice and young at that. Like bait drifting before a fish, he latched onto this, clung to this one detail for dear life and searched for its source. He closed his eyes, focused his senses and pushed his consciousness out to the room, seeing, feeling, smelling, tasting, listening to every nook and crevice of that dark prison all at once so that he knew the cut and feel of each slab of marble in the walls. But nothing, he was still alone.

   “...You're listening.” The voice whispered so close, he imagined its breath in his ear, but not only this, an image. An image forced into his mind, not of his own creation. Dark grey lips, curled into a twisted smile, sharp teeth coated in saliva, thick and black as tar. His eyes shot wide as his head spun around him. But still nothing.

   “...Hush.” This voice breathed into his ear, followed by silence as the laughter dyed down and for the first time in a month, the whispers stopped.

Silence.

Void.

Nothing.

That was all that surrounded him in his own personal prison, his twisted birdcage. A few minutes passed and there was nothing. Just silence.

   “We're here.” The voice returned, and with it a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to see a man standing behind him in tattered robes of grey leather that seemed to move about his form as if alive, the same colour as his skin. Dark grey lips and pointed teeth grinned down at him in his chair as the hand gripped down upon his shoulder painfully before throwing him to the ground. The sound of breaking bone and the lightning heat of pain surged through his side as he hit the ground.

He gathered his focus and prepared to retaliate, but stopped as he realized the ground, which he broke upon, was not the cold, smooth surface of his marble prison but rough, cracked earth and hard stone pressed against his cheek, threatening to cut into his hands as he struggled to rise. Turning his eyes up he saw, for the first time in years, the sky. Not an illusion created from his faded memory but the real sky, the sun beating down upon his pale skin, replacing the harsh artificial light of the screens, now no where to be found. The dark walls of his prison, suddenly replaced by a wall of grey forms, monstrosities, old foes wanted to be forgotten, a mess of feathers, fur, claws and scales; Fiends, howling, screeching and screaming. His senses flooded with information more than the mere stretching of his consciousness he applied from his tower but real touch, sound and smell. This was the world beyond his sanctuary and it awed him.

At the fore-front of these Fiends stood the grey skinned man, surrounded by other men and women just like him, some no more than children, each with the same twisted grin upon their faces, black eyes with white iris' fixed upon him.

   “Welcome to the world, Tribus.” Said the man, voice smooth and calm. Tribus could barely form a response, so entranced by the simple breeze, the sky and the earth which so many hold for granted. “Do join us again, we'll be waiting, dear Sentinel.”

At these words the Sentinel's eyes grew heavy, this new vivid world thrust upon him threatened to be consumed by darkness. He tried to speak in response: 'wait'. But instead he chose to hold his breath and relish the truly fresh air, since long forgotten, before closing his eyes.

*****

   “Sentinel?” Came the distant voice. “Sentinel?!” The sound of china and metal crashing to the ground filled the darkness, closer this time.

   “By God, what happened? Is he alright?”

   “Quickly, bring the Doctor!” Footsteps thundered and echoed around the confined space, quickly fading to the distance. “Sentinel, are you alright?”

Tribus slowly opened his eyes to find himself back in the Adytum Tower, inside the dark confines of his room. The light of the screens cast the silhouette of a man in a Civil Army officer's coat, kneeling over him. The Navy blue seemed to melt into the black marble walls. He tried to rise but a pain in his side made him grimace and stop. Despite his memory of broken bones, all that remained was the fading pain he now felt.

   “Sentinel, please rest.” The man said, extending a hand out to stop him from rising but just barely avoiding contact, as if afraid to cause more harm. “What happened?”

Tribus recalled his experience outside, the grey skinned man, the Fiends, but above all else he thought of the sky, his brief experience of true freedom. 'Do join us again', the words seemed to echo within his mind along with the thought of the world beyond these dark walls.

   “I-I'm fine, I must have fallen asleep and collapsed. Sorry if I worried you.” He said, trying his best to hold a smile despite the sudden emptiness and longing he now felt. The man looked to respond but held his tongue, far too loyal to question the word of his Sentinel. Instead he looked to the broken plate and food now scattered across the floor, a silver platter lying close by.

   “My deepest apologies for the mess, my Sentinel.” He said, rising only to bow low. “I'll return with a fresh meal and send someone to clean the mess.” and with that he left, closing the wooden door behind him. Once again, leaving Tribus lying on the floor in the deafening silence of his lonely prison.

'Was it all a dream?' He thought to himself. No more did the voices whisper nor did the shadows haunt the corners of his vision. 'Perhaps Deliah was right and my brain is rotting here.' He raised his hands up to his face to see the imprint of pointed stones, pressed tight to the flesh.

Author's Note

Hey, really unsure about this piece so would appreciate any feedback about it.
Was this entertaining? Did it make sense? Was the description confusing? Did I get any horror elements in? Anything really.
I have a lot planned out in my head but need to get through more story to get to what I find the more interesting/fun parts to write so I'm worried sections like this may not be good.
Thanks again for reading.