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posted 7 months ago, edited 7 months ago
1/2 of a bonus illustration for my webcomic, clipped wings.
you can start reading it here -- be advised that it's for mature audiences.
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The Dark Flower Will BloomA lightning split the dark heaven for a moment, only to disappear as fast as it had appeared. A merciless rain which originated from the black clouds was pouring down and unfortunate were those wretches that had to travel around that night, getting soaked by the cold water. The winds played their part too and harsh were their fangs as they traversed across the land, gnawing at anything that came in their way. The weather conditions surely were abysmal that night, forcing most folks to remain in a shelter, waiting for the storm to pass. However, in a concealed tower, built from black stone, there was a boy who was attempting to tame the storm. He was standing at the very top of the tower, on a circular platform that had no railings or anything else that would ensure the safety of anyone who would make their way to this part of the building. There were just a handful of columns that supported a roof that did give a little bit of shelter from the awful weather. The boy was protected from most of the rain, but this just agitated the winds and they were being even more cruel to the child, grasping his clothes and wanting to pull him down from the tower altogether so he could experience a gruesome end. But the boy ignored their howls and snarls, focusing only on one thing. There was someone else on the platform at that moment. A man was quietly observing the boy's movements, every single motion the child made with his hands and feet. He watched how the boy beckoned to the clouds, bending them to his will. And indeed, he managed to gain control of them. The black masses would take any shape the boy desired and in a short period of time, different kinds of entities were running around the tower, from horses to dogs, from rabbits to even mythical beasts. Never did the boy lose his focus and he controlled his creations like an experienced mage. And after watching the child's performance for a while, a slight smile appeared on the man's face. “Very good, Nokhi”, the man praised the child. “Are you sure this was your first time shaping the storm clouds? To me it seems like you've been doing this for a good while already.” Nokhi released the black clouds from his control and they were quickly swept away by the winds, their shapes mangled and torn apart. The boy turned to face his master and was clearly very pleased with himself. He had a radiant smile on his face as he gave a quick and respectful bow and said: “Thank you, master Jeskel!” “Now, let's go back inside”, Jeskel spoke, gesturing with his black wooden staff towards the set of stairs that were in the middle of the circular platform, leading down to the insides of the tower. The man was the first one to begin the descent, but Nokhi wasn't far behind. The stairs spiraled down for a little while and there were a handful of ghostly blue flames scattered around the walls of this section to emit some sort of illumination. They did contribute in giving an eerie atmosphere for the stairs, especially since they ignited and extinguished themselves depending on the position of Jeskel and Nokhi. In the earlier days, Nokhi had found these flames to be a little unnerving, but nowadays, they didn't bother him at all. Eventually the man and the boy came to a black wooden door, decorated by golden imprints that mimicked various plants. Jeskel made a quick motion with his staff and the door swung open, granting Jeskel and Nokhi an access to their dwelling. Carefully placed candles were keeping away the darkness, along with strong flames that danced in the fireplace. Countless books were piling up in every corner of this place, some of them neatly stored in various bookcases, but quite a lot of tomes that all had something to do with magic were just left lying around in a disorganized manner. Various other objects shared the same fate as books, not really having an assigned place and were just sitting wherever Jeskel or Nokhi had dropped them. This included different kinds of trinkets, skulls of small animals, jars that contained several strange contents ranging from body parts of mysterious beasts to weird liquids. All of these things together created a rather messy environment, but they also made it home for Jeskel and Nokhi. This was their little safe haven, a place where they could be themselves, not persecuted by the outside world. “You should warm up a little before heading to bed”, Jeskel said as he walked towards a desk that was almost completely hidden from view by stacks of books and parchments. He sat down on a chair and left his staff to lean against a wall. The man took a blank parchment and grabbed a quill, dipped it in an inkwell and started to scribble down what had happened that day and to document Nokhi's improvement. Meanwhile the boy was sitting on the floor by the comforting fire, his hands reaching for the flames, yearning for the warmth. After being out in such awful weather, the heat of the fire felt like a great blessing and indeed, Nokhi was grateful for having a warm shelter at that moment. It hadn't always been like this for him. If it wasn't for Jeskel, he would probably be in the streets getting utterly soaked, most likely then getting very ill. He hadn't gotten a great start for life, but he was getting in a better direction. For a moment the room was almost completely silent. The raindrops were heavily striking the windows, the flames were cracking in the fireplace and the quill's scratching on the parchment were the only sounds a human being could hear. At some point, Jeskel got a little distracted by a thought that crossed his mind and he stopped scribbling for a second. He gazed at the boy who was still enjoying the warmth of fire and he thought to himself how Nokhi's messy black hair reminded him of a raven. And just like a bird, the child had managed to soar. Then an idea struck the man's mind. “Nokhi, would you like to learn to fly?” Jeskel asked. Nokhi turned to look at his direction and Jeskel could see excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Really? You really could teach me that?” “Of course”, Jeskel responded, smiling at the boy. “And I think you will learn it in no time.” “Thank you, master Jeskel!” Nokhi's eagerness was something that just warmed Jeskel's soul. He was always ready to learn new things and he was always respectful. The man had found a great apprentice. “Well”, Jeskel said as he dipped his quill into the ink again, “I think you should go to sleep now.” “Yes, master Jeskel”, Nokhi replied and he raised his little body from the floor. The boy headed to his own living space, which was just a corner with a purple curtain serving as a door. It was small, but cozy and Jeskel had let him decorate it however he liked. “Good night, Nokhi”, Jeskel said as he began to scribble again. “Good night, master”, the boy answered and disappeared into his room. The man was left alone to write his thoughts down regarding the boy. He was impressed with his progress, especially when considering Nokhi's young age. The child had seen probably eleven summers. Jeskel himself hadn't been able to do half the things Nokhi already mastered in that age. And the little boy hadn't even known that he was bearing the gift of magic… In Jeskel's mind, it was truly fascinating to observe how the child's abilities kept growing stronger. There was no doubt about it, he could become an extraordinary individual if he continued to study magic. A moment passed by as Jeskel was scribbling his notes. The length of the scattered candles had shortened quite significantly when he was finally done. He put the quill down and stretched his arms a little as his position had been quite stiff. The man scratched his dark brown beard; though some of the hairs had already turned white. Unlike many other men of his age, he wasn't afraid of growing older, he was beyond that. While the ordinary men had to come in terms with their mortality, Jeskel was only thriving. One of the reasons was his apprentice; not even a single second of his time felt wasted as long as he was able to teach someone as special as Nokhi. Jeskel attempted to arrange his messy desk a little bit by stacking all the parchments he had written about his apprentice. They were the perfect record of the two years Jeskel had been teaching magic to the boy. Flipping through them was like diving back into the memories. And what a story these scribbles told… Jeskel placed the parchments as a neat stack on the desk. His gaze wandered to one of the windows and for a brief moment he just stared into the darkness, recalling back his earliest memories with Nokhi. They met each other by pure accident on the streets of a town. The boy hadn't had an easy childhood and it was pretty clear from the way he acted. Nokhi had told that his mother never wanted him and he had no idea who his father was. He had been on his own a couple of years living in the streets, just trying to live to see the next day. Nokhi had become distrustful towards people and arrogant as well. He didn't owe anything to anyone. But just by a mere glance, Jeskel could tell that the child was gifted; it was an instinct which common men didn't have. Of course, when the man had brought forth the idea of him teaching magic to the boy, Nokhi had just laughed at him, thinking that he was messing with him. However, after Jeskel had shown him a few simple tricks using magic and telling him that he could possibly do the same exact things, Nokhi suddenly became interested. Jeskel had then taken him to his tower; a place that was built on the same soil as the town, but it was concealed by magic so ordinary people couldn't see it. Following Nokhi's first visit to Jeskel's tower, the boy grew even more intrigued and soon began his apprenticeship. The crude shell Nokhi had put on in order to survive was shed after some time and he learned to be respectful towards his master. But Jeskel wasn't just a mentor, he had also become the father figure he had never had. The man had given him shelter, food and clean clothes and the boy had told him how grateful he was for that. It seemed like the little boy's life was finally starting. A smile spread on Jeskel's face. Truly, Nokhi was like a rare and spectacular flower, grown from a cursed soil. But despite his origins, one day he would bloom like no other and then the world would surely know his name. He just needed guidance and nurturing and of course, Jeskel saw himself as the right person for that task. The man would be the rain and the sun so the dark flower could flourish. He would make sure that the boy would learn to embrace his inner darkness and remain fearless in front of the black-hearted beings. In the following years, Nokhi would surely become one with the forces the common men misleadingly called wicked, and when he would take the dive into the depths of his dark powers and shatter the fragile border that lingered in between the being's consciousness and the hidden black part of the soul, that would ultimately become the day when the greatest mage in history would emerge from the shadows. And that was the day Jeskel wanted to see and experience. The boy just needed to be guided to the right path. Jeskel would make sure that it would happen. The man stood up. He grabbed his staff and slowly walked across the small living space. Just like Nokhi, he had his own slice of personal space as well, but unlike the boy's little corner, he had an actual room – even though it wasn't spacious, either. It was located right by Nokhi's quarters, the door to Jeskel's room was a couple of meters away from the curtain of the boy's living space. Once the man was by the black wooden door that guarded the access to his room, he could hear faint snoring coming from behind the curtain. The sound of a sleeping child… It was something Jeskel had got used to only recently. Jeskel waved his staff a little and in unison, all the candles got snuffed out and the flames in the fireplace simply vanished. All that was left were curls of smoke dancing in the dark air. The man opened the door to his little residence, then carefully shut it behind him as he didn't want to wake the boy. After all, he was still a little child. He needed his visits to the land of dreams. The time for tainting them with nightmares would come soon enough.trophyKiss From A ButterflyHe couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. He didn't want it to end like this. His daughter, the only significant thing in his life, had lost the fight. She had fought against her sickness for so long and he, a poor man, was unable to do anything but to watch her suffer and pray that if there was some high divine power somewhere above, they would hear his plead. But they didn't – if there even was any deity listening, that is. He had tried to seek help from healers, but it was all in vain. They had ended up being all alone with their painful problem, dwelling in despair. And so, it happened on that one autumn morning that the little girl took her last breath. She had been young, way too young, and it was unfair that fate had stolen her life so soon. Her father had stayed up all night, grasping her fragile hand, begging for a miracle. It didn't happen. Her life slipped away trough his fingers. His daughter, his most precious treasure, was gone. The inevitable had ensued. Then came the tears. His vision got blurred and he couldn't help it. He wept and wept, but no matter how much he cried, the tears that dropped couldn't bring relief to his bottomless sorrow at all. Why did this have to happen? Who was responsible of the demise of such innocent child? Oh, he so wanted that somewhere out there would be a higher force so he could blame them for this tragedy. Deeply mourning, the father raised his beloved daughter and started to carry her tiny body. There was only one thing he could do. If the stories that were told around his home village were true. Perhaps he still had a chance to see his little girl. He simply loved her too much to let her go this easily. He just had to go to the hill of butterflies. The grieving father carried his child's dead body out of their warm home. The weather was a bit cold and the sky was clouded and dark like the man's mind. He began his travel to the hill that was good distance away from their village. Protecting the figure of the dearest person in his life as if she was still breathing, he journeyed to his destination. Even though the world seemed grim at that moment, the hill was beautiful. A lot of colorful flowers were blooming, and as the man reached the top of the place, then sat down with his daughter still in his arms, it appeared as if the gorgeous plants were guarding them. The man embraced her, petting her long, dark hair. Now he just had to wait. So he waited. Eventually the dawn turned to dusk. That whole time the man had squeezed his child's empty husk, mumbling to himself that everything was going to turn alright and that he loved her more than anything. He was so focused on the small body on his arms that he didn't realize that something miraculous started to happen around them. However, it didn't take long for him to snap out of his somber state of mind and become more aware of his surroundings. The magnificent flowers didn't get reduced to buds as the veil of darkness intertwined around the world. Instead, they started to glow with a radiant light in many different colors. The sight was breath-taking, but there was still more to come. Then they appeared; the butterflies. It was as if the flowers had summoned them. Those beautiful tiny beings just materialized out of nowhere, each one of them conquering a blossom for themselves. And then, in unison, they took off from their little plant platforms, rising higher and higher, and began to dance in the air. The sight was stunning. The man could just stare in awe as the butterflies fluttered around them. So it was true. The fable about night butterflies was valid. They could help him. Soon one of the colorful insects separated from the group of its sisters and brothers, descending to meet the man. It landed on his lips, and the man closed his eyes. For a moment the time felt like it had stopped. Only when the butterfly decided to leave the spot to ascend again did the man open up his eyes. “Daddy?” Greatly astonished, the father shifted his gaze at his precious little girl he was holding. She was staring at him with bright and joyful eyes. She was alive, she was alive! He closed his daughter in a tight hug, tears of happiness rolling down his face. His heart was beating wildly, bursting with love for his only important being in his life. Delight killed all the last remains of his previous sorrow that he had felt when he had arrived to the hills. It was like that misfortune never even happened. “Thank you… thank you!” father whispered and made known his gratefulness for the little insects. “What's wrong daddy? Why are you crying?” the little girl inquired. The man wiped away his tears before answering: “Everything is okay now. Nothing is wrong.” Then he kissed his daughter's forehead. She let out a small giggly noise, which made the father's heart melt. After that, they both stood up, hand in hand and looked together at the dance of butterflies. Those small creatures began to flutter around the father and his child. The family members looked at each other with a sheer glee on the face of them both. Then they gazed to the sky above and collectively, still holding their hands together, they started to ascend to the heavens with butterflies.