CHAPTER V: TORMENT IN THE DARK
Somewhere in the North Shroud...
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The moon's light speared through the shadows of the forest and Xydane Vale struggled to stand. Feeling very weak, Xydane forced himself to lean on the nearest tree and he desperately clawed into the bark so he could not collapse.
"No!"
His voice was but a whisper and he began his fight against the unknown force that ached his bones, sent his mind into disarray, and made his armor feel as though he was wearing stone. Xydane roared in anger, tearing off his helm and throwing it onto the forest floor as his body temperature greatly increased. Sweat began to drip profusely from his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and onto the ground. Biting down and grinding his teeth together, Xydane yelled once more at the disembodied voice - harsh and malice - that echoed through the woods in the dead of night.
'Unlimited... power.'
"Why does it hurt?!"
'Your veins... carry my essence...'
"G-gah!!!"
'... your rage... and hate... feeds it...'
"W-why now?!"
'... while your soul.... succumbs to it.'
Xydane drew his sword and with the remainder of his strength, he stabbed the blade into the ground. Continuing to shout out in agony, Xydane firmly held onto the weapon's hilt and fought with whatever remaining strength he had in order to not black out. His grasp liberated and his legs numb, Xydane finally fell forward and crashed onto the grass in a heap of metal and flesh. The last thing thing he saw before he fell into slumber was Clover approaching him, looking worried as always. Her figure changed and her shape twisted, Xydane's eyes widen as he watched her turned into the figure of the voice whom spoke in his head.
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Marcus tossed and turned in his sleep. A much younger Marcus ran across the farming fields that he once called home and the boy laughed and smiled. The laughter turned into a scream of horror as the young Marcus wept and watched his family get torn asunder in front of him. The Garlean Empire marched through the many piles of broken and burning corpses of those he loved and once knew. Behind them were the rallying cries of heretics and above them were the winged spawns of the Dravanian Horde. Monsters and creatures of all shapes, voidsent twisted and cruel, and every horror imaginable marched through fields of bodies and red.
On his knees and covering his eyes, the little Marcus wept.
'Unlimited... power.'
Staring at the march of terror was now a present day Marcus. A single man who was powerless, hopeless, and the only thing he could do was watch as the world around him burned.
'Your souls... are being torn... from within.'
A great shadow emerged behind Marcus and it's deep voice echoed louder than the burning flames and screeches of every creature marching. The shadow expanded like a dark flame and a black gauntlet materialized - it's talons sharp and solid steel. The hand reached for Marcus' shoulder and gripped firmly.
'It is because of I... that you and your brother lived. It is because of I... that you both obtained my power. Your souls are succumbing to the darkness. Use your hate. Use your rage. This is what gives us strength. Embrace...'
The shadow twisted in shape and wrapped around Marcus like a cloak of black flame. The flames solidified and turned into steel armor. This was not the armor of an Ishgardian Knight but the armor of the voice - of the shadow. Marcus' weeps became silent. His sorrows became fury. His broken heart turned into an unending abyss of chaos and so thus "The Nightmare" fought and slaughtered. Maimed and decapitated. Broke and destroyed.
In an instant, the horror march had been annihilated and the knight sat on a mountain made of the corpses of his enemies. The nightmare suddenly forced Marcus to awake from his slumber and he sat up in sweat and shock. His heart raced and Marcus quickly fought to control his rapid breathing. Standing next to his door was one of the house's servants who stared at Marcus with fear and worry. The elezen was a young woman still in her night gown and she held a lit lantern with a hand that trembled.
"S-Ser Marcus? I...I awoke to your screaming and I and ran to your quarters to see if... if everything was alright. Um... Ser Marcus... your room."
Marcus blinked and slowly looked around him.
His room was trashed and the walls were decorated in cuts and slashes. Looking down at his trembling hands, Marcus was wielding his blade.
