Darkness 01

The woman before him was beautiful, with her long hair of streaming gold, and eyes that shone just as bright. Her ivory pale skin was unblemished from what he could see, and indeed there was much of it on display. From the low cut cleavage of the form fitting bodice of her armor, to the short cut skirt of her dress. Her long legs were covered by dark boots, but that couldn’t detract from the fact that with every movement, her dress teased him with flashes of just what exactly lay under the skirt.

She looked and dressed like a vision out of fantasies, with pleasing curves and a bosom that was almost too large for his tastes. And yet it was not desire he felt upon looking at her, no longing in his heart, no arousal stirring his body. She was simply unable to move him that way, despair and anger like he had never known filling Lezard.

He didn’t know why the sight of this woman always made him so angry. Or why an uncontrollable, murderous rage filled him. It was not enough to swallow up the despair he also felt, something inside him breaking as he screamed.

That soundless cry was followed by action, Lezard taking pained steps forward. Crossing the short distance to the woman, who barely flinched when he thrust his weapon into her stomach. The weapon, a double bladed lance the likes of which he had only ever seen in his dreams, became the only thing supporting him upright as the last of his strength failed him. Lezard dropped to one knee, still angry, still despairing, but also incredibly tired. It was all he could do not to pant, and Lezard knew then he was dying.

The woman held his gaze with her own the entire time, the gold merciless and unfeeling. Judging him as though she was capable of staring right into his soul, making Lezard involuntarily shiver in response. The rage was still there, Lezard wanting to lash out at her for looking down at him. But he could no longer muster the strength to do anything but hang on, and even now his grip was weakening.

Her lips parted, but just like with everything else, no sound came to him. Her look turned even colder, her expression as stern as he could ever recall seeing. He instinctively knew she was making a decision, proclaiming punishment for whatever wrong doings he had committed against her. Lezard expected to feel the anger in him surge stronger, but instead calm overtook him. He was completely at peace as he smiled at the golden haired woman, watching as his vision blurred and his hand let go of the lance. Immediately he crashed into the floor, and that is when Lezard sat up for real.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, to the point Lezard actually lifted a clammy hand to press over it. The rumble of thunder didn’t help calm his frantic pulse, Lezard blinking repeatedly, waiting for his vision to clear. The remnants of the dream still lingered strongly in his mind, the walls of his bedroom looking very much like blue and gray crystal, rather than the dark granite it actually was.

It was a relief when the room turned back to normal, though Lezard didn’t let out so much as a sigh. That would have been too strong a weakness, and would have invited questions from the woman who lay asleep besides him. He didn’t dare look her way, not wanting to know if her eyes were open, not wanting to have to kill her if she had witnessed his moment of fright.

Lezard didn’t like the frightened feelings that were stirred up by the dream. Anymore then he liked the sense of loss he experienced in the wake of that nightmare. It was a nightmare that kept repeating, Lezard having had it over a dozen times now. He still didn’t know what it meant, or what the golden haired woman had been telling him so sternly. He could never hear the words spoken, neither hers nor his, and not even the sound of the lance slamming into her body, could break the barrier of silence that was cast over the dream.

He didn’t know if what she said was even important, though there had to be SOME meaning behind a dream that kept repeating. It couldn’t be pure coincidence that he dreamt of a woman he hated with every inch of his soul. A woman that so infuriated him, it hadn’t even been a delight to deal a killing blow, because Lezard knew instinctively it didn’t change anything. Even if that woman died, the sense of loss would remain. Something important had been taken from him, but he didn’t even know what that could be!

The dream disturbed him, in a way few if any things still could. And in a world of perpetual darkness, there was plenty more to be feared, than some figment woman. At any time, in any place, someone stronger could come along. Someone with enough power to topple Lezard from the secure kingdom he had fought so hard for.

Lezard couldn’t stop the shiver that worked it’s way through him. Was the dream a warning? Was the woman the one who would come and take from him all he had? It would certainly explain the anger, though Lezard would be damned before he allowed himself to live long enough to suffer the loss. He would be no one’s plaything, especially not some cold eyed bitch’s! Not now, not ever again.

Refusing to let the memories of centuries past surface, Lezard reached for his glasses. Wire framed, and gilded thankfully with silver not gold, he put them on. The details of the room became clearer, the stolen furniture making a mismatched elegance out of the granite surroundings. Pieces from the world of light, stolen slowly over time, and at a great expenditure of energy from Lezard.

He would have liked for everything in the room to match, but he hadn’t been able to choose. It simply cost too much energy to bring over more than one object at a time, no matter the size. Nor could he cast the spell too often, finding the energy drain too dangerous to allow to happen too often. Not when he needed his magic to protect himself from those who threatened his kingdom and his freedom.

Fortunately for Lezard, his reputation, which had been built up over hundreds of years, was more than enough to keep away all but the most serious of challengers. Those few determined enough to try and take from him all he had, well they didn’t come around that often. Certainly it gave him a small window of time to try the spell, to occasionally bring over something that caught his fancy from the other world. But it was happening less and less, his desires becoming less focused on the objects there, and more on the people that owned them.

The people of the other world, they fascinated him. They were so creative, so inventive and bright. They not only held untold luxury and wealth in their hands, they had made things the people of the dark world couldn’t even imagine. Lezard knew there were boxes on wheels, that moved not by the push and pull of other creatures, but traveled on it’s own power. Cars instead of carriages, and even great long ones that were capable of flying through the air.

They had cities the likes of which the dark world denizens could only dream of. With multiple towering spirals that reached taller than even his castle’s highest turret. Thousands upon thousands crowded into those cities, and there was room for all to live, to work, to play. And that was another foreign concept, the idea of so many having the time set aside to relax, to not be scurrying to some other stronger person’s whims. Few if any in the dark world had the luxury of free time, or there was almost always someone to fight with, someone to bully and beat you, order you around or worse.

Perhaps that is why in the world of light, they were able to create so many marvels. They didn’t have to live constantly watching over their backs, didn’t have to worry about things being taken from them, broken or turned against them. Certainly they didn’t have to worry about the abuse, about the beatings and molestations, the killings and starvation that the people of the dark world lived with daily.

The problems the people of the world of light dealt with, seemed so small, so inconsequential compared to the lives the dark world dwellers led. But the worlds weren’t complete opposites. There did exist an ugly side to the world of light. Bad things did happen, and sometimes they happened to good people. But unlike the dark world, there was a system of checks and balances in place. A system made to punish those who did bad. Lezard couldn’t say he understood it, anymore than he understood the light worlders’ concept of right and wrong. In Lezard’s world, might made everything right, their system a dog eat dog world of dominance and submission.

In Lezard’s world, there was no true good or evil, no right or wrong. No crime, no sins, no laws save one. The way of things was never questioned, and indeed Lezard hadn’t bothered to wonder why things were like this in the world of dark either. That was before he had learned how to see into the world of light by entering into the people of that realm’s dreams.

It had been pure chance, more an accident than any direct action taken by Lezard. The barrier that existed between the two worlds was strong, almost impossible to pierce, let alone cross. And yet, he had found a way, though it wasn’t without it’s own limitations. He could see into the other world, speak with the people, even affect them through the dreams. But never had Lezard been able to cross over into that other world, the way blocked. At best he could merely reach inside for a few seconds, his hands grasping hold of the object he desired.

He had become adept at taking things from the other world, the objects gaining increases in size and weight. Until he had whole rooms full of stolen treasures, the items far better crafted than anything the dark worlders were capable of making. Not only did his theft make him among the richest in the dark world, but among the most envied. His power was as coveted as feared, the dark world dwellers wanting to be able to what he did. Wanting a way to make things appear seemingly out of thin air for few if any believed in the existence of another world.

The world of light would be the ultimate temptation to the beings of darkness. They would want that land, those things, even those people for themselves. And just like they did with everything else, they would seek to corrupt, to tarnish, even to destroy those beings of purity.

Lezard himself could understand those needs, though his were different. He longed for that world, for the chances he saw there. Lezard would have loved to escape to that world, to leave behind the darkness, and the fear, the constant paranoia and the ever pressing need to always be on watch. He wanted to be part of the light, and yet instinctively knew he wasn’t good enough for that world. He was too dirty himself, his hands tainted with what the light worlder’s would call evil. But in the realm of darkness, what was bad, was more necessity than evil, their way of life.

And just as it was their way of life to covet the things of others, Lezard continued to desire the world of light. The things there, the opportunities…and even the women there. Women who were nothing like the females of this world, untainted beings whose inner purity made them all beautiful in their own special ways.

That beauty calls to him, Lezard having dallied with hundreds of different women in their dreams over the years. Some willing, some not, some indecisive enough to allow him to seduce their surrender. The dreams let him feel some modicum of satisfaction, some lingering feelings of pleasure. The dream lovings make him feel a thousand times better than any of the sex he has had with the women of his realm.

He’s almost an addict to the dreams. He’s certainly one to the women, to ONE woman in particular. He doesn’t even know how he could have stumbling upon her dreams, doesn’t understand how lucky he’s truly been to find her. But she is the one thing that calms him, that makes him feel one step closer to being whole. And on nights like tonight, when the nightmare is fresh in his mind, it is her face he remembers, her body he craves.

It doesn’t matter to Lezard that the nightmare started around the time he first found the woman. Nor does he care that it seems to grow in power and frequency. He just wants what he wants. Her, now, here in his bed, though he’ll have to settle for the dreamscape instead.

With an almost imperceptible nod to himself, he grabs the hair of the female that lays asleep in his bed. She wakes instantly, flashing a gaze that is more angry than frightened. It seems Lusillia has become far too secure, assuming she has both status and safety earned from being his most constant bed companion. The fact that she doesn’t cower, implies that Lusillia thinks she’s safe from any violence Lezard might do, the man tightening his grip on her hair. She hisses in reply, revealing the slightly pointed canines of broken fangs. Lezard growls back at her, angry at her display of resistance. Not even her whimper can calm him, Lezard painfully jerking on her hair. She is dragged out of the bed by it, Lezard stalking nude towards the bedroom’s single exit.

Lusillia screeches in rage when she hits the wall across from him. Her eyes are narrowed into a glare, proving she doesn’t take seriously her eviction from his bed. Lezard knows he will have to teach her a lesson, take some other females to bed for the foreseeable future, in order to make Lusillia reevaluate her place in the hierarchy of his kingdom. For now, he’ll just leave her to stew out in the hall, Lezard slamming the doors shut behind him.

Lusillia knows enough not to pound on those doors, or scream any further. A loud tantrum of noise would only invite others to investigate, bringing danger to the female who is naked and weak, and considered pretty by dark world’s standards.

Truthfully Lezard doesn’t care what happens to Lusillia now that she is out of his sight. He can feel some of his anger easing, though it won’t completely go away until he enters the dreamscape. It is with that anticipation coloring his thoughts, that he hurries back to the bed. His body starts to prep itself in arousal, just the thought of seeing HER making his blood burn. He’s already half hard when he lays back against his bed’s pillows, but he makes no move to touch his erection.

Instead he concentrates, his lips moving, though the spell is silent. His eyes close, Lezard forcing himself to relax so that he doesn’t tense up at every sound. His breathing works to even out, then slow, Lezard slipping into that half state of existing. It’s not a true sleep he enters, Lezard feeling as though his soul is breaking the connection with his body. Traveling through the barrier, to enter into the other world. Searching, searching, wanting, needing desperately for her to already be asleep.

His lips twist in a victorious smile, as he finds his quarry already in the dreamscape. Remnants of her dream lingered, a dream he easily shattered with the force of his own thoughts. The beautiful blue sky of the world of light, is instantly blanketed by darkness, with not even stars to break up the black. That darkness leeched the color out of her surroundings, casting shadows everywhere. The woman seemed to know what the sudden onset of darkness meant, her body stiffening in apprehension.

Before she could turn to him, he was behind her. Pressing against the only warmth in an otherwise cold land. And just as she was hot, the woman was also the only color truly left for he had cloaked himself in the same shadows that were over the land.

Shivering, she tried to pull away as his lips caressed her ear. His arm caught hold of her across the chest, pinning her against him. His free hand touched her hair, that marvelous silver blue that flowed impossibly long down past her knees. Lezard knew without her turning, that her eyes would be a beautiful blue color, a shade not often seen in the world of darkness.

He need to see her, to look into those dazzling blue eyes. To be warmed by the beauty of her, by her glow of purity that refused to be tarnished no matter what he attempted to do to her.

That need would not be denied, Lezard using his hands to force his silver haired beauty to face him. Her eyes were frightened, her full lips parting on a gasp. If she squinted, she might just be able to make out some hazy details about him, but for now he kept the shadows around him.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, and felt the shiver go through her. He knew she liked his voice, knew that other women from the world of light, had also liked the sound of it. But this woman seemed even more affected by it, actually trembling from hearing it.

“The most beautiful I have ever seen.” Lezard said, caressing the backs of his fingers across one silk soft cheek. He liked how she felt, but more than that, he liked the fact that she didn’t put on airs. Most men and women when they entered the dreamscape, projected their idealizes selves. Fat became thin, small became tall, flat gained pleasing curves. Even attributes like hair color changed, but this woman was confidant enough in herself, to appear as how she did in the waking world. That pleased Lezard immensely, the man not wanting to embrace a lie. And once he had discovered how to break the illusions people cast on themselves in dreams, he had never allowed anyone to appear as anything other than themselves before him.

But he hadn’t been interested in visiting any others, not since he had stumbled upon this beauty. This woman whose face haunted him even when he was awake, to the point he visited the dreamscape more and more. It, SHE, was becoming an obsession, he wanted to be with her all the time. But so far it had proved impossible to drag a living being over to the dark world. Not that he would ever stop trying. So long as he lived and breathed, Lezard would always search for a way, a way to break past the barrier in a more tangible way than dreams.

But for now, the dreams were pleasant, diversions from the stress and anxiety of the dark world, and the frustrations the barrier’s limits imposed on him. And for Lezard, there was nothing better than being with her, with his beauty, his Lenneth.