5 Treat the Symptom (4/4)

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: It appears that I made a mistake with the scheduled publish time and that this chapter was released early though it did not have any content. I apologize for the confusion and hope that you enjoy the chapter! ADDITIONALLY I have created a Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/Sorrowthorn/) that will have current announcements about chapter releases and will eventually feature pictures of the characters. This is also my first time attempting to do a time skip. Let me know how I did]

Although Thayde's intent was to be decisive, leaving no room for doubt, he could by no means act accordingly. Not only did he not know where the hound was, but his parents continued to monitor him.

They loved him. Anyone in the castle would bear willing witness to that fact. Yet his declaration and intent and willingness to resolve the current issue had shocked them. How could their son, who had been raised in such a warm environment, even be able to conceive, much less willingly employ, such a method? Blaming themselves, they did their best to add fuel to his dimming spark.

Thayde himself wondered what was driving his hunt, and what made him different from that animal. Was he giving up on hope? Was turning to violence right?

He did know that if the hound was left alone, that it would happen again. The ferocity and pure malice needed to create such a grim painting would not stay bottled for long. The only prevention was death. It was also the best path for the hound itself. The golden rule, almost a catchphrase of his parents, held true in this matter. The longer the hound was alive, the more malice he created. The more malice created, the more it would be directed at him: taking the form of pain and prejudice.

But would the golden rule apply to his actions as well? Thayde wondered if there was any way to take part as judge or jury of this karmic law. It really did boil down to the intent of his actions. Was he hoping to bring pain and regret to the beast? Or was he seeking to give the hound the last hope it had?

He didn't know.

So as Thayde waited for traces of the hound, his parents did their best to teach him. Weeks passed: the snow outside melted and the warm winds of spring brought an end to the desolate winter. With spring animals returned. The birds would fly and sing in the trees as small creatures of the ground scampered about with hunger.

Ebony had been gaining strength slowly; missing a leg meant the other three needed to be stronger than ever. Spring meant that excursions could be made outside. To her joy, her brother walked with her outside at least once a day. Afterwards he would comb her fur as she snoozed, tired from the mental and physical exertion of walking.

Her pelt, returned to its former pristine beauty, was turning out to be quite the beast. The absence of winter meant she did not need her coat anymore. So it was left to coat everything else in the vicinity.

Thayde took care of her with diligence. He made sure she had exercise and that her shedding coat was taken care of. She was always by his side. As he ran the comb past her stump of a leg he found himself tasting bitter regret. His sickening chest froze and scenes flickered through his head. He was surprised when something wet touched his nose

Ebony had turned to lick his nose and stare at him. Managing to convey her simple request: cheer up! Thayde felt the corners of his mouth being tugged upwards. A small motion, more akin to a smirk than a genuine smile, crossed his face. Disregarding the mess it would make, he pulled his beloved pup into an embrace.

Her target closer now, she licked his face more. Warmth once again filled his sore heart. 'Maybe everything will be ok' he mused as he ran his fingers through soft fur. No matter how he looked at it, the future seemed to be brighter than before.

From that day on, the maids of the castle all gossiped that the prince seemed to be happier than before. Everyone hoped it was so. It hurt to see such a young boy attempt to hide his emotions. His mother and father were also gratified, thinking that they had managed to get through to their son.

Spring soon passed. The warmth gave way to a heat that was as oppressive as the cold of winter. These were days for staying indoors, and laying about. The country recognized that, and had dedicated the hottest months as holidays. Consequently, the only heavy lifting that occured during this time was in preparation for the Crowning Light. This festival, held on the longest day of the year, celebrated the glory of hope and its symbol: a flame burning in the dark.

On this particular holiday Thayde and Ebony were permitted to leave the castle and mingle with the populace of Tyl. Ebony was a lot stronger now; she had perfect balance and was just as quick. Still, Thayde never let her out of his sight. The cold and heavy object hidden under his clothes kept his focus sharp.

The festival was great and all, but Thayde was more concerned about the demon running about. He didn't bother talking with anyone, but focused on locating the hound. It haunted him. Invading his dreams, it would cause him to wake cold and sweaty with tears on his cheeks.

His palm twitched as he thought of the knife, and how it would feel to hold it, to send it into the damned demon.

Eventually night fell. Tyl on the other hand started to glow. Every house had a candle sitting on the outer sill of each window and in front of the door to crown each building in light. From afar one would see the now dark plain surrounding the city. Like a flame, Tyl cut through the darkness gleaming with splendor. The castle shone in majestic splendor.

No matter how many times Thayde saw this, it still amazed him. It was so beautiful. This time however, he did not feel the same. After he remembered how to breathe he reflected. He now felt more like a tourist, marveling over the beauty, than a resident, taking pride in the marvel.

He was missing something.

As Thayde continued walking he lost some of his focus, and sunk deep in thought. The light was beautiful, but fragile as well. All it takes is a gust for a candle to be blown out. Taking a look around he noticed quite a few smoking, dead wicks.

On the other hand, the light can be corrupted. A flame held an unquenchable appetite along with warmth and light. If not watched, it would grow violent and insatiable. Thayde thankfully could not see that happening anywhere. It took quite a bit of a change to go from flame to fire, but there were those that would fan the flame in search of fire. The flame needs to be protected. Those who would seek its perversion dealt with.

But fate is fickle. The night passed without incident, leaving the duo tired. Returning to the castle they slept.

——————————

As the riders raced down the dirt road, Thayde's own memories flashed by in their own race. Days became weeks that turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Soon the seasons were passing by followed by years.

Scenes passed through his mind as the time flashed forward. The continuous nagging of his parents. The times he pretended to be cheerful to appease them. The following holidays that never felt the same. The cold nights and winter that brought nightmares. Crimson paint on white canvas.

As fast as they sped up they slowed. Years showed their beautiful seasons. The months grew long until weeks never seemed to end. Expanding out until all that was in focus were the events of a single day. A cold day.

—————6 years after incident to the day—————

On this day, snow lay thick upon the ground, and the chill of winter clawed at the bones of all those who dared to venture outside. Two figures, clothed in nothing but a shirt and trousers, stood facing each other in the cleared courtyard. It wasn't that they did not feel the cold, nor that they were strong enough to stop the effects it had on their bodies, but rather they knew the gravity of the situation.

"My lord! Are you ready?" Called out Captain Merryl. Thayde stared at the captain, taking in his guarded stance. His shield held in front with his sword held back ready to strike.

"Better keep up old man!" Thayde taunted as he attacked. The solitary longsword he held sung as it swung through the air. His strikes were fast and varied. A mix of thrusts and slashes that came from all angles, probing the shielded captain, seeking a weakness in his guard.

'Lights above! How does he move so sporadically?' Captain Merryl really was trying his best to keep up with the strikes. 'Thank the Light I have a shield or this would be over in an instant!'

Once the prince turned eleven, he had approached the captain and asked to learn how to defend himself. Thinking it was a great idea that his future liege would be able to put up some sort of defense in the case of an emergency, he had broached the subject to the king and queen. After a bit of discussion, they relented.

'Forget about defending himself! I pity any would be attackers of my prince!' Upon starting the drills and lessons, Thayde progressed rapidly. In only a year he had mastered all the basic strokes of the longsword whilst also mastering the ability to parry. Not with just one hand, but both.

The next year he went on to beat each squire his age in single combat.

At this point the captain personally oversaw Thayde's training. He guessed that with the progress that his prince was showing that he would be able to handle knights very soon. Oh, how right he was. He wished he had bet on it. Only a year later and Thayde could outmatch all but the most veteran knights in single handed combat three out of 5 bouts. It would have been just fine if they could chalk it up to him being a prodigy at dueling and swordsmanship.

But the truth was more chilling. While he was a genius in the art of the longsword, with his chaotic attacks, what shocked all his combatants was that each and every strike was aimed to kill. Each and every one came to the realization that the young man they were facing, were it not a mock battle, was seeking their life.

The captain shivered as the lethal attacks rained down on his shield. Were it not for that piece of metal, and the fact that Thayde's sword was made of wood, he would be fighting for his life. And struggling to do so. 'I am sorry my King and Queen. I made the prince alike unto death itself!' An apology was all the captain could offer in this case. At that moment, he felt a sharp jab in his side in between the ribs. One that, if it had pierced, would have stabbed his heart.

"Someone's distracted. Is everything ok, Captain?" Death called out a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes on his face.

'No, not ok. This is not ok.' "Yes, everything is fine. Congratulations! That will be all for today my prince!" Hollow praise, and a fake smile combined to create a mask.

Discomfort. That was what the captain felt. And so he quickly retreated. "Good job today my prince! Why don't we take a break for the week to allow your body to mend."

Thayde quickly stretched in a manner that made the captain's muscles groan in protest. Was the prince making fun of him? "Of course, Captain! I will be ready and refreshed for our bout next week!" The captain grunted at the verbal jab before walking back towards his room. A warm bath sounded perfect!

Thayde was left alone in the cold. 'Great, now even Captain Merryl thinks I am a monster.' He shrugged it off with a sigh. As long as they kept it secret from his parents he really didn't care what they thought of him. No, right now he was too cold to care.

Turning he grabbed his heavy cloak and swung it over his shoulders. Only then did he realize that Ebony was not there. Only a flattened portion of snow marked her prior existence. A wave of heat tore through the cold that had seeped into Thayde. Where had she gone? Fear sought flowed, seeking to drown him before he stamped on it. He chuckled to himself at how paranoid he had become. She must have just gone to do business. A raven's kraa shattered his momentary mirth.

The fear returned, deeper than before. This time he couldn't keep his heart afloat. Drowning, he glanced about until he found a trail of a lopsided creature with three legs which he followed. Leaving his practice sword he did his best to not outpace the tracks he could see.

It settled over him like a haze, or the notorious blade used in a guillotine. Heavy, for sure, but also with a sense of confinement. He could not break free from the events. and they hovered above, the sharp blades that brought the end. Fleeing before them, he soon lost the trail, he was driven. Until the feeling of pursuit vanished.

They were still present, ready to be unleashed, but inactive. It took Thayde a while to notice his feelings had calmed somewhat. A quick glance around showed red on white. A living nightmare reared its head before him.

There lay Ebony, in the middle of a white rose whose petals faded into bloody crimson. There lay his companion, the one who brought a small spark into his life. Oh how her coat had shined! Now it was all snuffed out. Her light, her life, her shine. Not gone, but stolen.

Stolen by the damned dog that sat there preening over the mangled corpse of his beloved pet. Thayde could not tell if it was trying to show off its terrible artwork, or if it was just satisfied with the pain it caused.

The blades had all fallen, taking the difference between life and death away from Ebony. A single blade fell on Thayde. It cut through the depths of the fear that had surrounded him, through the fiery furnace of rage that followed, until all that was left was a void.

The hound's nose, which had been reveling in the scent of blood, was beset with another scent. A dangerous scent. A smell that belonged to places filled with skeletal remains. The stench of death.

This smell was coming from behind the hound.

As the hound turned around, Thayde unsheathed his knife. The sound of metal on oiled leather rang out momentarily. The hound froze as the source of the stench entered his view. There stood the prince, now a young man, holding a dagger that gleamed white as snow, white as bone, white as death.

"So you have abandoned hope, have you?" The hound's ears twitched as Thayde stared him straight in the eyes. A small step forward. The hound did not react. Another step. No response.

"Left it to rot as you have done to Ebony." Every fiber of the dog's being was telling it to run, to get away, to avoid and get rid of that awful stench. The void held him captive. The void that filled the prince's eyes, and emptied his voice. For the first time in its life, the hound knew regret.

"Don't worry, it may be too late for regret, but I will give you some hope." He had noticed the hound's gaze. Fear was abundant.

The calm steps only ceased when Thayde was within arms reach. "The last hope you will ever wish for." Placing his hand on top of the dog's head he titled its head back. A raven's cry pierced the air as his knife pierced up through the throat before reaching the spinal cord.

No sound left the hound as he let it collapse. It was dead before the echoing cry had dissipated. Thayde stared at the collapsed body of the hound feeling… nothing. No satisfaction, no joy, no regret. A means to an end, a cure for the disease causing the symptoms.

In the end he was left with two corpses and a bloody rose. As he prepared to bury the hound in the garden, he couldn't help but wonder if the hound would be able to nurture life in death. Or if even flowers would shun the corpse of this dog.