Angelic Vestiges: Murder of the Soul

Dun dun dun! At long last, another chapter of Mariana's life is unveiled! Here is the first part of what I hope to be a much longer fic than my previous one, found here. As always, feel free to leave comments as your heart desires. Any suggestions on improvement would also be greatly appreciated. ^.^ And now, sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Angelic Vestiges: Murder of the Soul

Part I: The Cruel Past

Moonlight streamed from between the gloomy clouds that blanketed the night sky, bathing the sprawling landscape below in its ethereal, almost haunting, embrace. The silence of the night was broken only by the occasional, boastful cricket, proud of its inherent ability to attract a female with its soothing, violin-like call. A breeze stirred in the long, hardy grasses of the Irish moors, carrying with it the feathery scent of the heath upon its breath. Nothing, not even that single conceited cricket, moved among the hills in the dead of night. Nothing, except for the petite form of a lone angel.

Treading carefully amid the swirling grass, Mariana rustled her wings nervously, for she was fully aware of what she traveled toward. Trying to maintain some semblance of both outer and inner calm, the angel stepped quietly, nearly cat-like, and drew her silvery robes tighter around herself as she shivered, not from any bite of cold from the wind but from the fear of what lay ahead that was beginning to sink its claws into her heart. Inhaling and exhaling evenly, Mariana tried to focus on the lacey streams of frost that slipped from between her lips. It was winter, and the season was just as harsh now as it had been back when she had still had a cozy fire in her rooms in the church of Lochlynn. In fact, it was much worse—far, far worse. Shivering now from the cold, Mariana forced herself not to dwell on the freezing temperature and continued making her way across the steadily whitening expanse. She blinked a few stray snowflakes from her eyelashes, unable to evoke in herself the sense of joy she used to feel during the first snow of the season.

Cedric was always so excited whenever it snowed…

Flinching, Mariana attempted to drive away the images of Cedric’s mutilated corpse that assailed her mind the second she thought the little boy’s name. She stopped dead, a single, rotund tear sliding down her cheek, shimmering in the moon’s glow as it froze before it ever hit the ground. Shaking her head, the angel gathered herself enough to persist in the direction of her ultimate goal. And before long, the hours of travel through the powdery dusting of snow finally culminated in her destination.

The decades spanning her period of absence had done nothing whatsoever to change Lochlynn. It still appeared just like some little 15th-century storybook village. Cast in the glow of the moon, however, it appeared starkly eerie, especially with the noticeable lack of people moving about in the middle of the night. The silence pressed in all around Mariana as she made her way timidly through the empty streets, and soon, she stood in front of the building she had called her home for those few years of happiness. Just as with the rest of the village, the church remained the same, as if time itself refused to lay its fingers upon it in fear of spoiling the hidden beauty of history. Taking a deep breath, Mariana stared up at the structure for several quiet, contemplative moments before moving to the back of the church. Upon reaching the little metal-worked gate she found there, the angel carefully unlatched it and slipped silently into the town’s cemetery.

Mariana had never been eager to visit the graveyard when she had been the village priestess, and it was taking most of her courage and fortitude to keep from jumping out of her skin at every little noise she heard. The frost of winter’s chill had reached here, too, covering the grave markers in a pale sheet of glittering white, and a cold, misty fog flowed low over the ground. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, obviously nonplussed by the cold. Wending her way among the somber stone monuments to the departed souls, some more ornate than others, Mariana scanned each one briefly, embracing the pulsing warmth of the Argentsigna for reassurance. Many of the family names she recognized from her time spent with the people of Lochlynn, and more than one name belonged to someone she had actually spoken with. She passed by a particularly eye-catching gravestone adorned with an elaborate cross on top and guarded by two statues of crouching lions on either side. Stopping out of curiosity, Mariana ran her eyes over the text carved deep in the marble.

Ambrose Bainbridge
A loving husband and father and a wise and caring leader
Lochlynn will never forget your service

Ambrose…the head of the village council when she had still lived here. It had been he who had chosen her as the village priestess in the first place. And it had been he who had decided to accept Lucilius as part of the council, as well. And now, he was dead, free from all the pain and suffering in this world while she limped on through time, unable to find even a semblance of rest. Sighing, she turned away, attempting to shut out the flood of memories that suddenly filled her head, and continued deeper into the tombstones. It wasn’t too much longer before she found what she had been searching for at last.

Cedric James Frederick
A beloved son and friend
May angels guard your eternal rest

Mariana winced as she read the last line of the epitaph. “Guard your eternal rest…” She clenched her hands into tight fists, tears beginning to form in her navy eyes. I didn’t even try to do anything to help him… I just…laid there while Lucilius dragged him screaming out of the room. It’s my fault he’s dead.

She bit her lower lip hard to stop it from trembling, attempting to suppress those memories again. Something at the base of Cedric’s tombstone caught her eye, and she bent down to retrieve it for a closer inspection. It was a small statue of a very benevolent-looking angel with arms outstretched, inviting weary humans into its comforting embrace. Mariana deftly ran her fingers over it, feeling every crack and groove in the minute details of the carving, and she paused when she focused on its wings. Its pure, perfect, untainted wings. Uncharacteristic anger and frustration suddenly welled up within her, and she screamed her anguish as she hurled the statue with every ounce of strength she could muster into the semi-frozen ground where it shattered upon impact. But when she bent to examine the remains, to Mariana’s dismay, the wings were still intact as if mocking her. Snatching them up, she threw them as far from herself as she possibly could before sinking to the ground in sorrowful tears. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the tombstone, the anger leaving her only to be slowly replaced by despair, and she continued weeping beneath the moon.

That will never be me again. I have no hope of ever becoming what I once was.

A soft noise, the faint crunch of snow beneath someone’s feet, swiftly brought Mariana’s head up, and she glanced about, fearful of whatever might have discovered her. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the silhouette of something move hurriedly behind the thick trunk of a nearby spreading oak tree, now devoid of its glorious crown of leaves. She paused, curiosity welling up within her, but self-preservation made her hesitate. Remaining as still as she possibly could despite the involuntary shivering of her body, Mariana wondered if perhaps she had only been imagining things. After several agonizing minutes of utter silence and stillness, the glow of soft candlelight caught her attention as it flowed from the frosty windows of the church. Turning her head in that direction, the angel narrowed her eyes slightly in puzzlement. No one should be awake at this hour.

Forgetting her fear of the unknown entity behind the tree that might or might not be waiting to harm her, Mariana rose to her feet to slowly make her way out of the cemetery. When she came upon the gate again, she closed it securely behind her, but not before looking back over her shoulder for a moment, a nagging feeling beginning to gnaw uncomfortably at her stomach. Shaking her head lightly, she put irrational thoughts out of her head and walked back around to the face of the church. Taking a long, slow breath, she put her hand to the small wooden doors and pushed them ajar.

Inside, everything remained as she had last seen it. Or rather, the last time she had seen it before that horrible night. Running her eyes over the simple pews that lined the single aisle cutting down the center of the sanctuary, Mariana finally settled on the object which she feared to look at the most. A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw the altar free of the horrendous sight that had meet her eyes all those years ago, and she tread softly down the aisle until she was close enough to put her hands upon it. Elegant candles surrounded the altar, serving to illuminate the carved cross, that symbol of hope so many humans clung to, hanging on the wall behind. Transfixed, Mariana gravitated toward it, reaching a hand up to tentatively touch it, as if afraid that her current condition would prevent her from executing such an action. Finding that her slender fingers made contact without any immediate repercussions, she exhaled the breath she had been holding.

What am I doing here? Why am I doing this to myself?

A creaking noise made her whirl around to find the front doors standing much wider than she had pushed them open when she had entered. But, as far as she could tell, she remained the only living thing in the church, and she unconsciously took a small step backward as she scrutinized every visible inch of the sanctuary. Nothing seemed out of place to her, either. As confusion crept over her, another noise caught her attention, this time from almost directly above her, and she raised her eyes to the rafters. At first, she could see nothing, but then the source of the noise moved, betraying its location to her. The flapping of leathery wings briefly revealed the whole form of the bat clinging upside down to the roof to Mariana, and she blinked in surprise, staring curiously at it. The creature turned its head to look back at her, almost seeming to possess some higher form of intelligence than such a bat would normally have, and as Mariana stood there, frozen, a strange feeling slowly filled her. It was almost as if…she was being called…

“Miss Mariana.”

The voice pierced the silence like a bullet, and the angel tore her eyes away from the ceiling to gaze in the direction from which she had heard the sickeningly familiar sound issue. On the floor from between two of the pews, a small, bloodied hand suddenly shot into the aisle and tensed as it dragged what was attached to it fully into view. Fighting down the overwhelming desire to retch, Mariana’s breathing quickened as both terror and panic clamped down on her. The torn body of Cedric lay before her, what was left of its skin barely clinging to its small, skeletal frame. Its head was twisted awkwardly to the side, and it was completely missing part of its right leg from the knee down. The heart was amazingly still beating, pumping fresh rivers of crimson to cover the pitiful sight. The noxious scent of blood was thick in the air, and Mariana gagged as it relentlessly assailed her sense of smell.

With an incredible display of strength it logically shouldn’t have, the corpse managed to slide ever so slowly forward, leaving a sticky trail of blood its wake. Gasping, Mariana pressed her back against the wall, hoping that somehow having the holy icon against her would keep the monstrosity away from her. But the sick thing continued to progress in her direction. For reasons utterly unknown to her, she automatically searched the ceiling for the bat, looking for some sort of reassurance and comfort, but it had vanished without a trace. The repulsive sound of wet flesh sliding over the ground brought the queasy feeling back to her stomach again, and she stared in horror as the body somehow managed to get on top of the altar, a mere two feet from her. It rolled its head over, another sound in itself that made her wince, to gaze upon her with sightless eyes.

“Why didn’t you save me, Miss Mariana? Why couldn’t you stop the incubus from taking me? Why did you lie still while I screamed in agony?”

Every question hit the angel like a punch to her stomach, and Cedric’s accusing tone only added to her emotional pain. Whispering, she attempted to offer him some sort of an answer. “I was…in a weakened state. Lucilius had just…drained me of most of my energy. I could barely breathe without exerting more effort than I would usually have to.”

The carcass slammed its tiny fist hard upon the altar, the sound echoing far more loudly than it should have. “That’s no excuse! You’re an angel! You’re supposed to protect me from everything!”

Tears poured down Mariana’s face. “I… I’m sorry… I couldn’t…”

“Then you’re no angel.”

The words sent pure agony through her soul, and her voice weakened further. “Even angels…have their limitations…”

Cedric’s body hurled itself off the altar and landed right at Mariana’s feet. “But it’s because of you that the incubus killed me. It’s because of your blind naivety that I was slaughtered. If you had seen him for what he was immediately, I’d still be alive!”

Audibly sobbing now, Mariana pressed herself as hard as she could against the wall, wishing she could just walk through it and run away. Her protests sounded weak, even to her own ears. “No…no, it isn’t my fault. I would have stopped him if I had been capable of doing so.”

The voice that emanated from the body suddenly turned as cold as the ice outside the church. “But you didn’t, did you?”

Before she knew what was happening, the floor gave way beneath her, and she fell with a cry of fright through pitch black for what seemed an eternity. Her rapid descent was finally halted as she landed with a thick splash in the middle of a vast ocean of blood that stretched on beyond her sight. Panic took her then, and she struggled to keep her head above the surface but failed to prevent a large amount of the fluid from filling her mouth. Coughing uncontrollably, she tried forcing it all back out again in complete disgust. She tried to stay afloat even as the blood coated her body, weighing her down and threatening to pull her totally beneath the roiling waves. And then, as if her situation couldn’t get any worse, several objects fell from above to plop in a circle around Mariana. Her eyes widened as what suddenly had become five corpses of Cedric began to rotate around her struggling form, grinning mockingly at her predicament. As one, they all chanted in a ghostly tone, “It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s your fault…”

Feeling her strength rapidly leaving her, Mariana resigned herself to her fate and ceased fighting to maintain her position on the surface, closing her eyes and allowing the bloody sea to close over her head. But instead of drowning in blood, she found herself falling through the darkness again, this time landing with a thud on a hard, solid surface of some kind. She lay still for a few moments before stirring faintly, coughing up the remainder of the blood that stubbornly refused to leave her body. The stickiness still dominated her clothing and wings, making her extremely uncomfortable and repulsed.

Looking around her, she found she was surrounded by blackness, unable to discern anything of her new surroundings. Suddenly, a light burst forth, a single candle, and strangely, the flame burning at the wick was an unnatural green color. Mariana was allowed no time to ponder what it could all mean, for in quick succession, more candles on either side of the first one ignited in green fire, encircling her in a ring of green light. She suddenly felt as though she were in the middle of some ritualistic site.

And then, he stepped out of the darkness and into the circle of eerie light.

Fear greater than any she had yet experienced wrapped Mariana in its paralyzing embrace. Every step he took toward her was like the striking of the executioner’s drum. Every detail about him was exactly the same as it had been that night. And to her dismay, his emerald eyes peered out through his silky black locks of hair, catching her navy ones and clutching them relentlessly. Tears streamed down her face, and she moved to stand and flee to the best of her ability, but sudden weight on both her arms and shoulders prevented her. Turning her head to the side, Mariana saw that the corpses of Cedric were harshly gripping her body, pinning her in place with iron-like grips. Panic threatened to overwhelm her again, and she pulled against them with all her might but to no avail. Those mocking grins were still painted on what was left of their faces.

“You belong to him. You shouldn’t run away.”

Jeering laughter flowed from them, and with a motion so swift Mariana had no idea what had happened until it had already occurred, the fifth body of Cedric tore her silver robes from her body, leaving her clothed only in her blue dress. Her breathing at a pace she wasn’t aware she could achieve, Mariana’s terrified scream ripped through the air.

“No!! What are you doing?! Let me go!!”

In a flash, the demon that haunted her day and night was upon her, and Mariana screamed again as his body pressed hard against hers. He ran his hands from the base of her throat all the way over her torso and down to her thighs then slid them back up to grab her chest and squeeze roughly. His tongue found her neck, and he licked hard all the way from her shoulder to the bottom of her ear, his breath hot against her skin. The angel choked on her sobs as the familiar feeling of shame mingled confusingly with pleasure washed over her, and she attempted to appeal to him.

“Stop… Please don’t do this to me… Please don’t… Please don’t…”

His black claws were immediately at the neck of her dress, and he tore it completely off…

With a jerk, Mariana awoke, quivering as tears streamed down her face. The dreams were becoming worse and much more real to her night after night. Stifling any further sobs as best she could, she rolled over onto her side, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. The floor of the forest beneath the shelter of the spruce tree she had chosen as her bed for the night wasn’t the most luxurious, but it served its purpose. Drawing her robes tighter around herself, Mariana decided it would be best if she remained awake for the rest of the night, and she cried softly, wishing for someone to hold her.

Well LEA, what's there to say? 'Tis awesome. And it really makes you feel for Mariana and what she's going through. I'll be following this :3

Yes, it's extremely well done. That dream has a way of sending shivers up your spine. I love how you use your language, it's very discriptive and almost old-fashioned sounding. I'll definitely be looking forward to this.

Oh YES! A sequel! Glee!

Wonderful descriptions, I can imagine everything perfectly in my mind. I shall also be watching this thread. I mean, what kind of fan wouldn't?

...

o.o

Jeez, LEA! I swear to God...there was some powerful emotion channeled into that peice, laced between every line. It literally sent shiver up my spine...and left many questions in my mind...like why was...Cedric raping her? At least I think that's what he was doing... >>

XD You think that..."Cedric" was raping her? ..... *bursts out laughing* Now, Awbri, that would be EXTREMELY sick of me. >.> And even I wouldn't do that to poor Mariana. <.< No, no, no. Lucilius was the one almost-raping her. You know, I mentioned the green eyes, the black hair... And then there were the green-fire candles... >.> Work with me here. I never mentioned his name because I was going for more of a dramatic effect sort of thing. Anyways, that's the deal with that. Just to clear that up. XD *chuckles*

I feel really sad after reading this. It make me realise how much I suck at writing.

I guess I'll keep my eye on this thread maybe I'll learn a thing or two. Probably not.

Ooooo, so creepy. As you know, I love dark writing, and this hits the spot, baby. Dead children, yay! As another commentator said, it does have a sort of old speech to it, classical, call it what you may. Much different than my style, of course. Outdoing me as usual, you scoundrel.

Anyway, I have to say, keep this fic going. It's looking to be the best work you've ever done. That's raising the bar since...well, the very last thing you did. ^^;;

As Shade said, you scoundrel. outdoing me in the writing department once more. The emotions you spun in this first part of the sequel leave me wondering how you convey it so well... wonderful work. You just keep getting better, Milady. That scene where she recalled Lucilius raping her was extremely vivid, and it felt real. Wonderful job.

Lea, your words descriptions are as vivid in text as they are in my mind. I love the way you use such poetic descriptions and weave together such a beautifully told story.

I like the dream. It makes me miss having you as a teacher.

Any advice?

Apologies for the late reply, but I absolutely must say this:

PUBLISH IT.

I'm not kidding. Seriously. This is better than a lot of work I see in published novels nowadays. Heck, this is on par with some of the best stuff I've ever read. As soon as you've written what could be considered a full book, for the love of all that is sacred, please submit it to an editor and see what you can do. I mean it, Milady, you don't give yourself enough credit. << If you don't try to get this published, I'm going to hunt you down and...and...

...poke you, or something. With a stick. A very sharp one. Yes, I shall poke you...

...but not too hard. >>

An equally late reply from me here, because I don't have much to say. I only wish to repeat what WptS just said, and to add one thing - write more!

And no, milady, I do not fear the silver frying pan, for I am a dragon and have much power.

Spoiler (Highlight to read):

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Please don't hurt me...

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I read this and.... WOW! Just simply WOW! It was an amazing thing to read!