In Reflection, The Same

by Faedelaide

And So Bringeth His Rotted Breath

The early morning air brought with it a crisp coldness as it swirled through the leafless trees. It was a crispness that ruffled the feathers of sleeping birds and woke their hearts. The small jays and cardinals flapped awake, commanded by mother nature herself to start the day as the sun gently nudged awake the few animals that, for one reason or another, had not hibernated. All through out the underbrush, the chill wind nipped at noses and toes and tails, and slowly, the forest came to life.

All around, birds began to tweet their songs. rats scurried throughout their little snowy tunnels, and small rodents basked in the sun, taking in as much warmth as they could before scurrying back into their snow covered bushes. Squirrels hopped from tree to tree, leaving their homes and exploring the icicle laden branches around them.

A small family of beavers emerged from their dam. There was a new leak that needed to be repaired, or else their home might flood. They got to work as the sun continued to rise, it's luminance and warmth increasing with every passing moment. The biggest of the beavers began gnawing at a nearby tree, and the others followed suit, finding their own sources of wood to gather. However, the biggest beaver was surprised when, after only a few seconds, the tree already began to fall. The beaver scampered away to a safe distance, and watched as the tree collapsed in on itself. With a final crash, the tree crumpled into a cloud of purple-black dust. The beaver cautiously pitter pattered towards the pile of ash that stained the tranquil white snow. It sniffed along the ash, looking for a piece of wood still durable enough to work as a repair material. Fortunately, a sizeable twig jutted out from under the darkness. The beaver grabbed it quickly in its jaws, then scampered back to the dam to make quick work of the hole.

It didn't take long until the dam was repaired, and the biggest of the beavers cozied up back inside as the others continued their gnawing. As the day progressed, the rest of the family gradually returned to the den as well, until all of the beavers were huddled up together, warm and safe inside their dam. Slowly, they drifted off to sleep.

...drip... drip... drip...

The biggest beaver raised its head as it heard the subtle sounds of dripping water. It looked around the small burrow, trying to make out its origin through the darkness.

...drip... drip... drip...

The other members of the family began to wake. In the corner of the burrow, a small puddle was forming from the liquid that had snuck through the seams and collected in their home.

...drip... drip... drip...

The first beaver to enter the water resurfaced with little issue, but as it broke the surface of the water, it stared back at the dam it and its family had built. It was covered in a thick layer of ooze that floated on top of the water like oil. It was an incredibly dark, unreflective black, making it appear as if the dam and the riverbed had been swallowed by an unstoppable darkness. a smaller beaver rose from the water, but the ooze was spreading quickly. It polluted the water, making it darker and thicker by the second. It stuck to the smaller beaver's fur like glue, and as the two beavers made their way onto dry land, it refused to wash or rub off, despite the beaver's best efforts to scratch it away. The two waited for some time for the rest of their family to join them. The sun was high in the sky by now, casting the entire river in an unfitting warmth as the tar ceaselessly absorbed everything in its wake. The rest of the beavers had not come up for some time now, and it was only when the dam collapsed under the weight of the wave of black liquid that it became obvious that the other beavers were gone. The two sat quietly, waiting in vain for the tar to pass so they could return to their home.

However, the beavers weren't allowed even the slightest moment to grieve or rest. The second the biggest beaver laid its head down to rest, a thunderous CRACK sounded through the forest. Fearing for their lives, the remaining beavers darted off into the snowy forest, far far away from the tar, from the dam, from their family.

Another CRACK echoed through the woods. Birds flew away in a panic. Squirrels huddled together in their trees, and the sonorous song of the forest began to die out slowly as every living thing ran from the cacophony. In the middle of the pitch black river, on a small embankment lined with oil covered rocks, A pillar of ice stood. It sat silent, along with everything else around it. The only noise that could be heard was the timid creaking of the nearby branches as the wind fearfully bristled past.

Until the ice stirred again.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK-KOOM!

Like a bolt of lightning, a grand explosion sounded through the dead forest. The ice, once tranquil and still, now exploded to life. A titanic crack formed down the pillar's center, and a moment later, it split apart. One half, no longer tethered to its other side, broke off and fell into the river beside it. It slammed loudly into the oily water, crushing what was left of the dam in one unceremonious instant.

The other half stood tall. From it, a tidal wave of tar spewed forth, knocking down nearby trees and drowning any bushes caught in its path. Black steam billowed from the block's core. For a second, the wind stopped, as if shocked by the sight it had beheld.

From within the core, a single, lanky arm fell. It tumbled onto the dead grass below it, where it remained motionless for a second. Then, it twitched, lightly at first but increasing in ferocity until it slammed into the ground. Seven long, knifelike fingers dug into the frostbitten ground with ease, owing to a sharpness honed over countless generations. The hand scraped its way through the dirt until it rose into the air, tracking small bits of dirt and frost with it. Another hand snaked out from the darkness of the mist to join its companion, and both of them speared themselves into the frosty soil.

The two arms tugged and tugged, pulling something out from within the ice. In a short while, a gnarly visage began to expose itself from the darkness. A pair of massive hooves thrashed from within the mist, kicking and bucking at the ice below it. The hands, giving up on tugging the rest of their owner out, instead clawed and scraped at the ice around them, cutting through it as if it were butter. With quick, smooth motions, the claws began to remove chunk after chunk, all while the hooves continued to break and shatter the ice that had rooted the pillar to the ground.

In time, the mist began to dissipate, and the oil evened out. Though it had still created a wide pond around the ice, which made what remained of the pillar look as if it were floating through a starless void. Within the mist, the silhouette of a figure became more apparent. The hands continued to slice, slowly freeing more and more of the great beast that was held within. Finally, after hours of work, a head revealed itself.

a long, emaciated snout escaped from the mist first. A lipless mouth loosed another cloud of black mist, and long, pale teeth chittered as the monster clacked its toothy jaws. It's oily nostrils flared, and the monster raised its head, extending its long neck until its entire front half escaped from the darkness of the fog.

The creature paused for a moment, then it began to retch. It choked and sputtered and gagged, and its throat swelled with some unseen substance. The claws reflexively held the creature's neck in place, trying to force up the blockage. Finally, the monster expelled one last deluge of black fluid, some of which billowed into the air like smoke.

After a couple sputtering hacks and coughs. The creature's long arms relaxed. They brushed the snow below them, for they were easily able to reach the ground due to their impressive proportions. By this time, the beast had managed to release it's hind hooves with one rough motion. It stumbled and wobbled as it tried to keep balance.

Trees toppled and snapped as the monster put its full weight against them, and its head constantly scraped the top of the canopy. The beast looked at its surroundings as it regained its footing. The trees and bushes and streams all around appeared to dead. It was almost as if time had stopped completely. For a moment, the creature was as still as the woods around it. Then, a sound flowed through the forest, like the gust of a hurricane or the flapping of a monumental bird. It's nostrils opened up like two bottomless pits, and it's maw gaped wide.

Finally, for the first time in fifteen thousand years, Sammakott, king of the dead, breathed fresh air.