In A New Reality (Again)
With a single, deep inhalation of the crystal-clear air, Honoria Wingate knew something had happened. Of course, the ankle-deep whitish dust and bluish buildings around her were also a clue of sorts. When she stood up, brushing the clinging dust from her black leotard, the sidhe realized very quickly that something was wrong. Extremely wrong. Each breath made her feel weak, and before she knew it, she was coughing hard enough to spit up blood.
What the fuck? I thought I was immortal! Why the hell does it feel like I’m dying?!? Where the FUCK am I, anyway? This is becoming a serious pain in the ass. When I get my hands on whoever pulled this stunt, they die. They just fucking di-
The coughing took on a new intensity which brought her to her knees, hand clamped over her mouth, doing very little to keep the blood in her body. Tears welled in her eyes, and her ribs began to ache horribly as the coughing increased yet again. A whisper of movement to her left caught her attention, but her coughing was too strong to focus. She started when a hand, blacker than panther fur, touched her arm, and she looked up. He was blacker than anything she had ever seen, the color of highly polished ebony, with eyes of milky ivory and snow-white hair falling to his shoulders. Clothed in a white cloak, umarked and stainless, he seemed a strange sort of ghost to appear here. His face was beautiful, almost carven, and marked with a strange compassion. Honoria’s coughing became violently wracking as she looked up at him, and she fell over onto her side, the whitish dust billowing around her. She saw, dimly, a bone-white cup coming towards her, and felt her shaking hands reaching for it, when the world went completely and utterly black.
Water, fresh and cold, ran over her lips, and the sidhe instinctively swallowed. The liquid hitting her throat made her cough again, and she sat up, blinking rapidly. The bluish city was gone, replaced by a grassy hillside, with nearby stream. It was similar enough to a memory that she blushed faintly before looking around. For a moment, all Honoria could see was darkness. It was so dark it blotted out some of the stars overhead, twinkling brighter than she could ever remember seeing. The darkness moved, and there was suddenly pale flesh visible. Blinking her bluish-violet eyes, the sidhe coughed again and tried to stand.
"Did you wish for death?"
The voice was mellifluous, like nothing Honoria had ever heard before. It did not speak, it sang. She squinted, trying to make out the speaker, and then a long-fingered pale hand came out of the darkness to reach for hers. Without understanding why, she grasped it, and was swept into a billowing cloak of midnight feathers.
The Demon Prince, Night’s Master and Wickedness laughed as he descended to his Underearth realm. For the first time in nearly a millenia, a mortal had caught his eye, and he felt inclined to play. Cradling the delicate mortal closer to his incorporeal body, the Eagle-Winged laughed again, passing through the three gates of the Underearth and heading for the demon city, Druhim Vanashta. This looked like a pleasant diversion, and perhaps, a little more.
Tales from the Flat Earth and all related characters are, sadly, not mine. They belong to the fabulous, talented, inspired and wonderful Tanith Lee. READ HER WORK!!! I do a pathetic attempt to write Azhrarn and the other Lords of Darkness, so if you want the real work, which is WELL worth reading, find Tales from the Flat Earth.