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TRIBUTE TO NYEMES by Vanisse ----------------- and how is it that the fire burns so bright, so still, casting shadows upon the winded cove it is but a susurrus of song this flickering flame of remembrance wrapped with mists stealing bone and blood alike feeding the living with ambrosia of the dead She felt as if the cold mist was stealing into her body, usurping her warmth, replacing her living marrow with ghostly vapor. The fire was no salvation. When she awoke from her intense concentration she felt only a numbness in her fingers, though the skin on her palms was withering in the heat. She watched without watching as the darkness ascended from the black ocean waves, spreading like a purplish bruise across the expanse of empty sky she observed impassively as the shadows from the unseen waning sunset battled weakly from the fire-cast figures in the sand behind her and lost. The water gleamed in blades of gold-tipped night as they approached the land and whispered sweet evils into her deafened ears before soaking into darkness. In her soundless mind the darkness sang to her, a wordless tuneless melody of invisible colors. And from thence appeared a figure shrouded in the night, a figure without sound or shadow, only a barely perceptible outline against the ebon sky. Nyemes, the Stalker of the Living, Dread of the Night, come to claim his prize of blood. |
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