Light Memories

While Scarlett and Sagacious spoke with the ancient Queen, miles away in the Throneroom of Caer Ashwynn, Ciara and Darruk stood triumphantly, covered in the gore and crimson wreckage of her rage. The Queen had fled, along with her prize! Such cowardice! She screamed in impotent rage, raising her hands to the sky and drawing in all of her power, releasing it in a roar. The shockwave spread out from her, mowing down civilians and soldiers alike in the streets of the ancient city.

A terrible silence followed for several moments, broken only by the coughs and cries of the dead and dying. Ciara closed her unblinking eyes and opened her mind to the power that had overtaken her.

*Calm yourself, mortal. I hunger and there is much life to be fed upon here.*

The words echoed hollowly in her soul and she growled in anticipation as she felt the flow of power from all the lives she'd taken. Glimpses of family joys flitted past her mind's eye, memories of those her power had gorged itself upon. A strange thing happened then, she 'felt' or rather, saw a memory that was familiar to her.

A younger version of Ciara, an orphan on the streets of Westgate, meeting a young but still huge Darruk at age thirteen. Stranger still, the memory seemed to be from Darruk's point of view. She'd seen him digging through some garbage and had offered him some small pittance of whatever food she'd had in her pockets at the time. To her, it had been nothing at all, but to him it had meant the world. He'd not had anything to eat for days, and he'd been utterly devoted to her ever since.

The two of them rose quickly within the ranks of the Black Masks after being accepted. In the span of two years, she had been brought from the gutters of society to a position of respect and fear. And she'd brought Darruk with her. Realizing the emotional depth of the connection they shared caused her to pause for a moment. When she did so, the raging power that was feeding on the city also stopped. Quiet reigned in the palace as Ciara experienced a feeling of devotion and almost love from her fallen and raised companion.

The pureness of this feeling dropped Ciara to her knees. She felt… guilt? He had devoted his life to serving her, and when the time had come, she had betrayed him. She saw the memory of herself leaving him with the high Priestess, could feel the terror rise in his throat, the sting of massive tears forming behind his eyes. The searing pain as the high priestess had pulled his eye out and replaced it with the chunk of onyx that now rested there. She felt his fear and rage as he watched when Isobel had stabbed her, felt herself lift his body into the air and fling him towards her attacker. She felt, through his memories, bones break and burning pain as he was hurled by Ciara's power. Even in betrayal and eventual death his only thought had been to serve her.

The hulking form of Darruk seemed also stunned in this moment, his decaying and massive head staring at Ciara. She reached out and laid a steadying hand on his massive shoulder, attempting to control the memories that assailed her mind. The power was hers! And she would not be cowed by something as pathetic as love and devotion. Those belonged in children's tales, and Ciara was beyond them. She raised a broken and decaying nose to the air and sniffed like a wolf hunting prey.

"North, Darruk, our prey fled north." Darruk's massive form began to move slowly, almost mechanically, towards the northern wall of the room. With a lazy gesture, he hurled his undead frame at the wall, breaking through it with relative ease. Upon its destruction, or at least partially, he began to move the wreckage out of his mistress' way so that she could follow easily. He kept his massive head bowed and staring at the floor, something about the memories that had just flooded Ciara made him feel strange. Like a gnat buzzing at the edges of his consciousness, it slowed him down and he couldn't help but feel conflicted.

"Shee-ara, we chase?" His deep baritone rumbled forth as he asked his question, his eye still cast down and away from her.

She stood silently and thought for a moment of two, before answering. "Yes, but only you and I. The rest of these…. Servants will stay here and continue to take the city for our Dark Lord." Darruk nodded, but she could sense his unspoken questions. "The more I use my gifts, the easier it will be for the angelkin and his charge to sense our approach. We must use guile now, brute force only works in certain situations." Her mind was working very quickly, sifting through memories and ideas at an unprecedented pace. The power within her festered still and fed on the lives that it had claimed.

*Soon. Soon, Ciara, you must find her and kill her.*

Ciara nodded and smiled like a predator. "For you, Dark Lord Annatar. For you… Father." As she spoke the words, she felt long dead nerves flare to life again, could feel the anticipation for her hunt. A thin line of black and putrid drool began to fall from desiccated lips. She loped from the room like a hyena on the prowl and limped off towards the northern horizon.

Darruk's huge form stood still and watched her go for a moment. He shook his gigantic head, as if the memories could be physically dislodged by doing so. Something was very wrong here, he felt deep down. He felt uneasy and afraid as he watched his mistress stalk from the area. Deep inside, the eight year old half-ogre he had once been began to raise internal alarms. Something was very wrong with his Ciara.