He became accustomed to using aliases. He found it easy to hide, he played life like a game of hide and seek, mostly because the prowl of the kingdom stalked him. Every new name, every new life, every new day, clockwork ticking in his head. He wasn’t afraid of being caught, he taunted it. He taunted his oppressors, which is why his name never settles. Though he was fond of Arthur. Perhaps that’s we’ll call him: Arthur.
Arthur seeked the thrill of the hunt, though it was odd as he was never the hunter. He dressed in the attire of a villager, ragged and appropriate to farmers. He left his “home”, though abandoned houses could’ve just been another alias for him. He wandered through the dirt trails, feeling a wildflower occasionally. Arthur picked on, smelling the calming scent. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just enjoyed running. The sun at noon hung above him, another set piece for his upcoming climatic escape. Arthur rubbed his hands, preparing. He inhaled, feeling sweat fall down his forehead. Something pricked at the back of his neck, and he felt; afraid? He shrugged it off, stretching and bracing himself.
The village was quaint, it was calm and felt like a place to live without the burden of stress. But Arthur liked the stress, it challenged him. Every predator he could tame was another breath he would not lose running. Arthur fell into the shade of a tall building near the edge of town, where you’d usually see gatherers collecting water from the well or harvesting flowers to make some complicated creation they could sell to traders. As Arthur felt the bumpy stone of the building’s wall, two burly men dressed in traditional Blue Dragon guard clothing with armor strolled down the path, chatting to each other with their laughs echoing through their helmets.
The helmets of the guards shined in the daylight. Their swords were sheathed, though they seemed itchy. Creased papers rolled up in their hands most likely displayed his face, or whatever distinct features they could find, which were lacking. He was staring intently at them, waiting for their empty eyes to find him. The shadow-filled sockets found him, and they began to give chase. Arthur laughed, turning with speed and sprinting with ease. He mentally laughed at his foes, knowing he could run. But the feeling in the back of his neck prickled again, and then Arthur collapsed. Mid run, he just about slid on his face. The gasping guards, desperate for air, caught the sight of his lifeless body slumping to the floor with a harsh thud on the dirt. They stared in confusion, sighing heavily in disappointment. While they didn’t care for disposal, it was part of the job, so they gripped his arms and took the corpse of Arthur with them.
Arthur woke up to the sound of bells. They were tolling for him, he knew it. There was darkness all around, but the path he walked down was crafted with marble. He knew because his footsteps echoed as the hollow world followed him. Thunder howled and lightning crackled in the distance, though Arthur couldn’t see any sign of them. No matter where he looked, everything was veiled by black. After his legs beginning to ache, purple light trailed beside Arthur. It seemed darker than wherever he was, which felt impossible. It followed him, maybe to guide him to some form of welcoming doom. Eternity passed and Arthur felt his legs buckle. He couldn’t move, he felt numb. “Do you still want to run?” Corax’s fading form was burned into his retinas, Arthur gasping and stuttering in horror and desperation to unsee the image. He twitched, unable to express his words. “You are afraid. You can run no longer.” Corax’s purple light intensified, burning like summer rays. Arthur found himself plummeting to his death, or whatever form of death could welcome him.
But then he impacted. Nothing was everywhere, he felt like he’d hit something but he didn’t know. Arthur shivered, crawling. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. Blue light encompassed him, and he gasped. Surrounding him were his family. He muttered a defeat “Please, no.” It sounded like a whimper, which it may have been. Their eyes pierced him, like jagged stones digging into his skin. He felt blood trickling down his arms. “Please,” he began to plead. “Please! I’m sorry! Please, stop!” He began to cry, feeling the blue light around him close in with a crushing depth.
“Mother, please. Stop.” Her hand reached out and took his hand, and Arthur could feel his body begin to rot. “Mother, please!” Tears poured down his cheeks, but they weren’t only Arthur’s. His mother’s face almost bled with regret and terror, yet she couldn’t do anything. Arthur knew she couldn’t.
It all began to burn. The house growing into a fire enraged beast, crackling and tearing through the wood. Arthur sprinted away, the match he had lit burning alongside his family. He ran and ran until he tripped and stayed there, curled into a ball and crying. Left all alone on a dark road, the only light you remember being the light of the fire killing your family. Imagine. Arthur didn’t have to.
“PLEASE!”
It stopped.
“Do you swear upon no longer running, Arthur?”
Arthur nodded rapidly, feeling the blood and the tears fall down his body. “I just want to go home!” Arthur cried. “That can’t happen.” Corax’s form began to take shape from the darkness, and it took his arm. The rot his mother’s touch had begun spread like a fungus through his body. Arthur cried out in pain and felt his heart shut down. Nothing could not surmount the terror he felt as he died. Though he did not die.
“Corax!” A voice echoed around the entire room, the flickering blue light glowing brighter. “This is no way to kill a poor boy.” “You dare to seek morals in our home, brother?” Corax seemed to turn to the entity, the purple light vanishing. “He has done no wrong, and we shall not punish him for running.” “You’re naive, Iveros.”
Iveros came to view, burning with blue light. Its mask was similar to Corax, but it had broken antlers sticking out instead of ears. It had a form of spectral fire, Iveros’ body similar a human but with deep fire damage disgracing the skin. He looked as if he’d fallen into the sun but had not burnt into ashes, mangled and charred. “My form is not pleasant, is it? I do not wish you to think so, I too am ashamed.” Iveros looked at Arthur, when his empty mask socket blazed a red light.
Arthur gasped, feeling the might to stand. He took his time, imagining his bones cracking and him being stuck on the floor forever. But he stood. “I bless your travels, young one. You shall run no longer.” Iveros began to speak an incantation, filling the room with actual light.
But then a deep flame erupted from the light, and struck Arthur down. “NO! What have you done?!” Iveros confronted Corax, who was staring at his brother with, somehow translatable, a look of contempt. “Humans are OUR servants, Iveros. They shall suffer before they flee.” Arthur began to scream, feeling the blue light dig into his bones. “You shall run, young one. But you shall run before your time is up.” Arthur began to fade, the rot on his body spreading alarmingly.
The meadow he awoke in housed many crops, and a farmer. The sight of Arthur sent him in hysterics, shouting for help and trying to help him to his cottage.
Arthur needed a vessel. This body shall soon rot, and he doesn’t have time to linger.
Blue light burst impressively from his eyes as Arthur forced the old farmer to the ground. There was pleas and cries of fear. Everyone was so afraid, but Arthur would not be. He would be feared.
The old farmer rose, the blue flames calming down. The sun began to set over the horizon as the corpse gave away to the effects of Corax. It faded into shadows, which stretched across the whole field. The old man walked back to his cottage, smiling to himself. He didn’t like this new body, it felt old and crooked.
But now there were more bodies to choose, endless bodies to enter, to feel their souls as they’re crushed and drained.
Drained by the Possessor.