How Death Lived

by Crimson Wisp

Chapter 21. A Bond Restored, Another Defiled

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When Discord teleported away with the mane six and company, Azazel turned towards his newly resurrected army. For the next few minutes, nothing but the howling wind could be heard as the young necromancer admired his handiwork. Never had he raised so many undead, and even then it had never been this easy... The sight reminded Azazel of his father's bedtime stories; the kind he'd hear on those awful nights when he couldn't sleep and the souls trapped within the young nephilim would twist his dreams into torturous nightmares and... things he'd rather forget... But try as he might, the damned within yearned for their warden to suffer.
Now numbering in the hundreds, the damned howled and screamed for retribution; their voices becoming an almost unintelligible cacophony. On rare instances, seemingly at random, their voices would unite and shout like an army of trained soldiers rather than the writhing mass of pain addled souls that they were.

"MAKE THEM SUFFER!!!"

"DINE ON THEIR SOULS!!!"

"SHOW THEM NO MERCY!!!"

"BURN IT ALL TO HELL!!!"

Flashes of holy fire screaming through the air and burning his flesh to dust overwhelmed his senses. The image of his parents shedding painful tears as they banished him to another realm for his safety was burned into his mind with brands forged from the nephilim's neglected affliction; a constant reminder from the damned of their disdain for him and an incentive to indulge in his demonic desires. And finally the face of the human dog that executed the solar goddess' command flashed before his eyes; his words being uttered with zealous contempt...

"ANY LAST WORDS WRETCH!?!?"

Deus Vult's voice echoed in the nephilim's mind, reigniting the smoldering embers of Azazel's vengeful wrath. Slowly, and without pause, he felt his fury grow. Much like the geologically active landscape around him, the young necromancer's heart began to accelerate; eventually pounding away so forcefully inside his chest that it sounded like an angry war drum. As dark streaks of ebon malice began to spread around his eyes, Azazel's darkened eyeballs were bathed in a crimson light with boiling blood coursing through his capillaries. His vision slowly became a red haze, as his mind began to fantasize of the cruel and horrendous ways he would torture those that wronged him. The nephilim's ribcage became visible as his bare chest was illuminated by the malignant light of hellfire building up inside his body. Wisps of smoke began to fume through his nostrils as he struggled to stay put and not explode then and there.

"What are your orders, boss?"

A throaty, masculine voice spoke up, breaking the eerie silence that plagued the dragonlands. Subconsciously thankful that he now had something to distract himself with, Azazel quickly turned to look over his shoulder. The undead who spoke up, a disemboweled dragon no bigger than the nephilim with scales, spines, and barbs of varying shades of brown, flinched as their new master's gaze fell on them. To think that the titanic abomination that killed them was but a construct, a puppet controlled by something unfathomably more powerful, sent an inescapable sense of hopeless dread through what remained of the walking corpses. And those eyes... Those unfortunate enough to see into them shuddered in an instinctive fear that made the few who had little to no flesh left on their bones nearly shake themselves apart. Those subjected to the nephilim's unsettling act of acknowledgement, witnessed the barely contained wrath of a beast from what they could only believed to be the deepest, darkest pit of Tartarus. Never once had they seen so much anger, pain and hate condensed into a single, soul shattering glare. And then... after a few seconds of heart rending silence that felt more like an eternity... it spoke.

"My army is far from complete, there are more of you that I have yet to awaken into undeath. Go forth and bring me every bone, shred of flesh, and cadaver my terrible leviathan left in it's wake. GO NOW, AND LET NOTHING STAND IN YOUR WAY!!!"

With his twisted voice and his armoured hand thrust forward, Azazel told them everything they needed to know. He hated the grass for growing, the clouds for floating, the birds for singing and the stars for shining. He was hatred incarnate and, if for even a moment they considered betraying him or disobeying him, the wrath of Tartarus itself would come crashing down on them with the force of a thousand suns. Without a moment's hesitation, the vast majority of undead nearly trampled over each other to do the necromancer's bidding in a fearful frenzy. The only beings that seemed to hesitate were the two elder dragons looking between their new master and the wingless titan that currently stood at more or less their own height; the ebon fire it had for hair unsettling the now undead Dragonlord and his trusted Baron. Eventually, the elder dragons regained their composure and gave each other a glance to ensure the other of their intent. The titans took to the skies, the sound of their monstrous wings and the torrent of wind they produced gave Azazel something else to distract himself with. Slowly, but surely, the young necromancer was able to get his emotions in check; the hellish magic coercing his body to change dissipating with the vestiges of his wrath. When only the titan and his master remained, the nephilim mentally commanded it to keep watch of the surrounding area for trouble. Azazel looked on as the aberration he had unintentionally brought into being slithered away, the earth shaking with it's every movement. After some time, the titan and the undead dragons had gotten far away enough that he couldn't feel their magic.

/////////Azazel//////////

I closed my eyes, and for only a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the odd tranquility that had surrounded me. The distant vibrations of volcanoes rumbling away and spewing this world's insides tickled my aching feet. The smell of brimstone was strangely soothing as a colder wind from the Everfree poured into the dragonlands and numbed the burning pain in my chest. The sun's rays would occasionally poke through the smog and warmly kiss my scarred body. Aside from the souls within me, who were also oddly quiet; not a single soul yearned for my death... I was tempted to just lie down then and there and forget about it all when I heard a voice call out to me...

"BOOOOOSS!!!"

That voice...

"HEEEYYYY!!!"

that bastard...

"CAN YOU GIVE US A HAND?!?!"

My most annoying scribe and my brother at heart called out to me. It took every last ounce of will power I had to pull back the tears welling up in my eyes, as a tidal wave of emotions I had been repressing threatened to come pouring out. I took a shaky breath as I opened my eyes and began to march towards the cage; yet again shoving everything I felt back into the back of my mind. Every step was surreal, I... I could see them... My undead brothers and sisters were all looking at me with the emerald light of joy. My whole body ached, every step being a chore; but I didn't care. When I finally closed the distance, I latched onto the bars. Using what remained of my strength, I bent the metal poles and eventually broke them off one by one. The metal shafts groaned in protest at being deformed and broken, but I would have none of it. I continued to bend and break the bars, finding a subtle enjoyment in the action. Much to my surprise, I was tackled to the ground by a flower spangled skeleton after the seventh bar was ripped clean off of the cage.

"AZAZEL DON'T YOU EVER DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN OR SO HELP ME GODS I'LL KILL YOU!!!"

Mia cried into my ear as she held me in a monstrous bear hug. Even with a part of her arm missing, she was holding me very tightly. Too tired to get up, too ashamed to look her in the eye, and too tired to fight with my emotions anymore; I simply laid there on the coarse floor, letting bitter tears stream down my face. I... broke... again... Even now, as my family worried about my well being rather than their own, I couldn't fight the feeling of unforgivable failure that was making me wish someone would just drive a sword through my chest.

"I don't think he believes what he's hearing, hun."

Trephor said, walking into view over by my left. It took about a minute to understand what Trephor said, and a whole other minute for the information to settle in.

"Hun-... WAIT! ARE YOU TWO-!?"

I asked not believing what I was hearing. The shock and subsequent anticipation causing me to bounce into a sitting position; my self loathing being completely forgotten. Mia unsurprisingly, was not ready for the sudden movement; as her lower back disconnected from her pelvis and her legs disassembled.

"Woah! Easy Azazel, I'm a little delicate at the moment..."

She said with a tinge of giddy embarrassement in her voice. My disbelief in the marvelous implication was dismissed as I held her to keep her from falling. With an awkward motion, I moved over her pelvis and with rapid clicks, her lower half reassembled itself. When I was confident she wouldn't disassemble in my hands, I indecisively alternated between looking at the two of them before coming to a stop on my beryl brother.

"So you finally took a hint?"

I asked, hoping I'd get something stupid in return.

"I literally die, come back to life, and the first thing you ask me, is if I took a FUCKING HINT!?"

The green idiot said, his voice dripping with faux exasperation; his arms being outstretched to further accentuate his indignation. Never once had I so much yearned for to hear Trephor's stupid voice, yet here I am... Unable to contain the sudden explosion of euphoria that stretched my lips into a mad smile, I hurriedly got Mia off of my lap. As I rose to my feet I pulled my flower spangled big sister along with me, using my wings to propel myself upwards. She squeaked from the sudden jolt, but was on her feet and composed shortly after. Wrapping the undead lovers in a bear hug, a stupid sounding giggle left my lips. A FUCKING GIGGLE!!! I SWEAR, I'M GOING BANANAS; IF I HAVEN'T ALREADY!!!

"Someone's happy."

Trephor quipped, making me laugh. Unbeknownst to him, father had educated me in the art of shitty quips and lame jokes during my brother's absence to better defend myself.

"Only cause I get to be the best man~"

I teased, wriggling my eyebrows and giving him a grin so stupid that it would have given father's a run for it's coin. The reply caused the two undead in my arms to tense up, avert their gazes, and their eyes to flare up with a rosey blaze.

"Can I be your bride's maid?"

My little one asked, coming out the cell atop her feline steed. She seemed drained, but her excitement was almost palpable. The question, however innocent it may have been, made Trephor's and Mia's eyes explode with lavender and magenta scintillations that sparked like dwarvish fireworks. The reaction finally made me lose it, sending me into a laughing frenzy that made my sides ache as I let go of the two flustered love birds.

"Pleaaaase! I've never been to a wedding before, and Astoshan said his wedding with lady Lilith was super nice!"

She said, the child-like innocence of her plea making it impossible to stop laughing. Mia, unsurprisingly, got flustered and flew into an indignant rant that was paired perfectly with Trephor stepping and trying to calm her down. The odd entourage of undead equines soon came out of the cell to watch from a better angle as the dramatic display of familial chaos I was used to seeing back in the Ursan Forest unfold. I probably would have fallen over laughing, had my gaze not drifted to the one undead that had stayed inside the metallic cage. His silhouette was accentuated by the dim sunlight poking through the clouds and those red stars I'd come to find more reassuring than the eyes of most other creatures. However, despite the shade he stood under and the unreadable nature of his skull, I could sense heartache, relief, exhaustion, and worst of all... fear. Avalon's eyes locked with mine, and my laughter began to die down. No thanks to the damned within, the memory of my last encounter with my most loyal was thrust into the forefront of my mind. It was then that my gaze drifted downward from his eyes to his jaw; some of his left most molars had been cracked and part of his jaw had minor fracturing. The sight began to fill me with the guilt that my newly betrothed caretakers had unknowingly suppressed. I knew it wouldn't take long for it to render me too emotionally distressed to act. Wasting no time, I cautiously approached the undead; tucking my wings in as closely as I could to not come across as upset. Despite his attempts to feign ignorance, I could feel a wave of relief wash over him, along with the telltale sensation of his telepathic bond leaving my mind. Seems he beat me to the punch...

'No. I have to make this right'

I thought to myself as I closed the distance between us. I knew, that he knew what was coming...

'Damnit Avalon... why must you make this so diffi-'

"It's alright sir, you don't have to apologize."

He said, his voice though deep and menacing to most, was... reassuring; if nothing else.

"...Avalon... I-..."

I barely managed to say his name before he stepped into the light and wrapped his arms over my shoulders. The show of affection left me dumbfounded, but i dared not push him away.

"But-..."

"You and I have been through too much together for it to warrant any apologies... I'm just glad you're ok."

Those words were spoken so softly that I almost thought it had been someone else who said it. But the sincerity of his words were only reinforced with firmness of his embrace. Avalon made it clear that this wasn't something he would debate. He wasn't letting me go, and to be honest... I didn't want him to... I wanted to say something, but nothing made it past my lips. Reciprocating the hug was the only thing I could do as tears began to well up in my eyes again. As I shut them and savoured the gentle yet firm embrace for all it was; the edges of my lips curling slightly in tired smile. For all that had happened... after nearly dying twice and believing I had lost it all... this moment was worth it; and nothing would change that.

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It had been about an hour since the now undead Dragonlord and one of his Barons had been resurrected. The pair had flown northeastward along the edge of the dragon lands in silence. Torch and Cinder had been wrestling with the idea of what they had been ordered to do. Were they really going to allow their new master to desecrate the bodies of their comrades?

While the scorched and ash caked landscape was far from pleasing to the eye, for it's inhabitants, it was home. Unfortunately, the copperish stench of blood still in the air made the already unwelcoming atmosphere worse; a testament to the horrors that had happened a scant few hours ago. Spires of obsidian and volcanic rock had been reduced to gravel; the few that were still relatively intact bore scorch marks.

As the undead Dragonlord and his baron landed, Cinder could only look on in horror at the grusome sight before him.

A small ways away lay the unmoving body of a massive dragon; Dreadwing. Her body, though smaller than most dragons of her age, was in no way small. Majestic navy blue wings with yellow scales placed seemingly at random intervals in her webbing were the only part of her that hadn't been scorched and/or carbonized.

The baroness lay dead on her side, the stench of charred flesh only now settling in. A few hundred meters away lay the mangled remains of Skyquake, twin brother to Dreadwing. All of his limbs were bent or twisted at unnatural angles, all save for his head; the lime green baron's face twisted into a silent scream of horror.

But it would be Brimstone's corpse that would scar Cinder for as long as he lived on; or at least... what remained of his life.
Only the topmost part of his chest and arms remained, a sticky crimson sheen of blood and shredded entrails tarnishing the ash ladened earth.

It took Torch a while of scanning his surroundings to find his deceased comrade's lower half, a scaly leg and the purple barb of his tail floating on the banks of a nearby magma pool.

"I can't do this..."

Cinder breathed out, a cold shiver running down his massive body. Torch didn't look away from what remained of Brimstone's lower half as he spoke.

"We have to do this..."

The elder dragon stated monotonously. Though the crimson dragon couldn't see Torch's face, Cinder could hear the disgust his friend felt as he spoke.

"We grew up together... We fought together, we pillaged and built up our hordes together for Tartarus' sake! Torch... I'm not doing this... Not to them..."

Cinder protested, his will only granting him enough self control to sit and speak in a vain attempt to keep himself from dishonoring his brothers and sister in arms.The compulsion to obey the necromancer's command was becoming almost impossible to ignore for Cinder, but Torch was another matter entirely.

The Dragonlord looked on at the fate of his deceased friends, with a practice mask of stoicism; seemingly unaffected by the strange compulsion that plagued his Baron. Even in death, the draconic relic nestled in his armor was unraveling the dark compulsion within.

As a deafening silence surrounded the titanic dragons, Torch's sobering thoughts drifted towards his daughter... Then it hit him like a wrecking ball, causing his eyes to widen in realization, and his brow to furrow with determination. Turning to look at his comrade, Torch gave Cinder a look he knew all too well.

"You have that look on your face Torch. What are you thinking?"

Cinder asked, his miserable mood being cast aside at the renewed will of his lord.

"I've ruled with ferocity, strength, and determination for centuries; and now we face our darkest hour."

He began, his words though painful to hear, rang true.

"Our new... "master", is something we can't beat with overwhelming force like we usually would. He wields dark magic and has dominion over life and death itself."

Torch continued, his tone firm and unwavering. Cinder, on the other hand, was growing impatient for the eventual weakness or boon which they would exploit.

"Where are you going with this?"

The crimson dragon asked. Torch, much to his Baron's surprise, smirked as he continued to unveil his plan.

"Eons ago, when my grandfather was the Dragonlord, a monster just like him appeared; seemingly out of nowhere. His name? Grogar."

Torch explained, causing Cinder to go wide-eyed.

"The Dark Ram? But he's just a legend made up by ponies!"

The Dragon Baron retorted incredulously.

"Oh, he was real alright. Just like the pony who defeated him. But do you know who gave that pony the magical artefact that banished the Dark Ram?"

Torch asked, his smirk turning into a devious grin. Cinder paused to contemplate the question, but try as he might, he couldn't remember if there was any mention of anyone helping the sorceress in the old pony legend.

After a few seconds, he looked at his grinning comrade with a perplexed shake of his head and a shrug. Much to Cinder's unsettlement, Torch's smile had become... unhinged. The steel blue Dragonlord leaned in close to his Baron's ear, and whispered the answer in an almost conspiratorial manner.

"It was Tiamat..."

He said. That was the last straw for Cinder, shoving Torch away and looking at him cautiously.

"Madness! The God-Queen is not real!"

Cinder snarled, flaring his titanic wings and assuming an aggressive stance. Torch on the other hand, seemed indignant. This however, passed very quickly, as he pulled on the collar of ashen breastplate and freed the Blood Stone Scepter from it's confines. He held it betwixt his pinched claws for Cinder to see, looking at him with an unwavering resolve.

"The Blood Stone Scepter was distilled from her! SHE IS REAL!!! And she MUST be found if there's even a chance that we'll be able to destroy the monster that KILLED our brothers and sisters!!!"

The Dragonlord explained angrily, his tone implying that this was beyond debate. Unfortunately, the undead Baron was unmoved.

"Even if she WAS real, there's no way we'll find her in time! Legend says that she lives in the CENTER OF THE PLANET FOR TARTARUS SAKE! EVEN IF THAT MONSTER NEVER CAUGHT US, WE'D NEVER MAKE IT!!!"

Cinder shouted, his disappointment only being rivaled by the insult of being given false hope. However, much to the crimson dragon's confusion and further surprise, Torch's devious smirk returned.

"WE aren't making the journey."

He clarified, sounding as if he'd been discussing the weather. The sudden change in tone blindsided Cinder, causing him to short circuit and blink several times in an attempt to process what he just heard.

"...what?"

The confused elder dragon blurted out, still left reeling from the cognitive dissonance this whole conversation was causing him. Seeing that he had regained Cinder's attention, if a little skewed, Torch unveiled the crux of his plan.

"While I may not want to admit it, strength alone won't be enough to destroy that monster. He will need to be outsmarted, not overpowered; if we want to ensure dragonkind's survival."

He began with a sigh, looking right into his old friend's blood red eyes.

"Our children are incredibly smart for their age, if they can find Tiamat; they will either have her on their side or the God-Queen herself will destroy the demon. I know that they will reclaim our home and defeat that demon just as we did when we were younger!"

Torch explained, his vigor returning and making him sound like the proud leader he was. While Cinder silently weighed the odds in his head, the Dragonlord took the crimson dragon's right claw and opened it.

"Go to Coastal Spire and give Ember this. With any luck, every dragon left in the Dragon Lands will be there along with Starscream. She will be able to point them in the right direction and keep them from tearing each other apart."

The Dragonlord said, placed the toothpick sized relic in Cinder's claw before continuing.

"Tell her of our plan. I will stay behind to buy you time."

Torch said grimly. At that last statement, Cinder's outrage was rekindled.

"I'm not leaving you to die he-"

"LISTEN TO ME DAMNIT!!!"

The Dragon Baron began to protest, only to be cut off as Torch grabbed onto Cinder's shoulders and shouted; causing the earth to shake from the power in his voice. Seeing as how Cinder had shut the fuck up, the undead Dragonlord continued.

"You and I are already dead, and whatever magic that demon used to bring us back won't last us forever. We cannot waste our only chance to ensure that monster will pay!"

Torch's statement lingered in the air for a moment, before Cinder sighed in defeat. Turning around, the Dragon Baron walked away from his old friend and spread his wings. He paused for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder to find that Torch's stern face had softened.

Cinder took a moment to let several centuries worth of memories wash over him. The many adventures he'd spent with his friends, the day he met the one and only dragon he'd ever fallen in love with, the day his children hatched, and finally the last dragon migration; the last time the Dragonlord and his Barons would be together.

"It was an honor, Torch."

Cinder said with grim resolve in his voice. Turning northeastward, the crimson elder dragon took to the sky when no reply came. The wind ceased, the sky darkened, and the former Dragonlord looked on for the last time as his friend vanished over the horizon.

"The honor was mine."

Torch muttered to himself, before turning face and undertaking his profane duty. The chains of the necromancer's binding the once proud Dragonlord to the demon's will.

Comments

[Teraunce]

ouch.