Work Text:
Oh beautiful world,
With a forgotten life.
Stories covered in dust,
Forever left alone.
Phil felt the lag before it ever began to show. He went on a trip, following maps to different dark mansions. The shudders started off small, felt as if one had just woken up. Instead of fluid flaps of smokey wings, they jerked. Pausing for milliseconds before following through. The terrain processed a bit more slowly, textures seemed a little bit off. Fog clouded the edges of his sight.
He passed it off as too many generated chunks in his world. The server was due for an update anyways.
Looking at the current map in his hand, purple sheens covered it with enchantments. It was unlike all the others, it looked, felt , different. Yellow eating away at the edges of the grainy paper, marks and paths with unknown meaning. Measuring his compass with it, he continued on his way, flying his way to the north. How long has he been flying now? It's been a good five or six days, traveling through at least nine mansions. The map showed he had to pass over a set of mountains before the next manor showed up.
Soaring, he skimmed the climbing mountains. Everything looked so worn . Gorges tore deep wounds into the stoney sides. Trees twisted with age, lines etched deep into the bark. It’s like a battle happened long ago, and the terrain has remained scarred ever since. “What the hell happened here..”
His map said he was nearly there. There was no forest around him, just barren peaks.
What was this map leading him towards?
A deep cavern cut into the earth, hidden between two towering peaks. Cliffs cut above them, giving more of a hidden image. Phil was surprised, or was he? New ravines and caves were part of the servers wide-spread, maybe there was a new monument to explore. It would make sense. Drawing his wings close, he plummeted through the small opening. The ground rose to greet him, then cut away.
Oh.
A city stood before him. Carved carefully into the stone, houses and paths scattered the floors, sides, even hung from the ceiling. Cold wind whistled around him, a deep scent of damp moss and age settled the air. Going closer, Phil landed on a blackstone path, a huge building of marbles in the distance. A palace , he thought. This was once a kingdom . “Bloody hell.”
Touching a hand to one of the walls, he examined carvings etched in the stone. The architects must have been highly skilled, runes and people and animals and scenes with minuscule detail covered everywhere. Creatures of all colored and textured stones; granite, diorite, andesite, copper, anything graced the roofs of buildings. Blue veins like rivers ran by the drawings, vines laden with glowberries glowed softly. Phil walked quietly on the winding paths to the palace. redstone lighting up as his feet touched the ore. Everything was so beautiful.
He felt so small, so young, in a place so large and old. A tiny creature scurrying for food in a field of wheat. Passing under an arch, he gasped. If the city was nice, then the inside of the palace was gorgeous. Even more ores graced the walls in a dance of colours. Dragons frozen in mid-roars by an artisans design curved around supporting pillars. Stars and galaxies flecked with silver decorated the dome. Carpets bitten and chewed ran down the middle of the room, up a set of shallow stairs, ending at the foot of a throne. It was surprisingly simple, while everything else teemed and was littered with gems and art. It was a polished off-white, with black cracks sprouting from the top center, where a head would rest.
Phil felt his heart skip a beat. Those cracks weren’t meant to be there. They were the splinters of an arrow. An assassination attempt completed. He turned around slowly, now seeing the devastation wrecked so long ago. The rugs weren’t chewed off by moths, those were burn marks. Scorch marks turned the floor black, columns cracked and falling down, steel swords and arrows laid hidden in the shadows.
The void of the world pulled at his wings. Wrong wrong wrong . It chanted. Death strife pain.
A queen who wanted no death felt its wrath.
Torches blazed from the spots upon the walls. Laughter and chatter bounced off the walls. People graced in jewels and silver stood next to the walls, sipping champagne as ladies and men danced to light music in the middle. The ball room was so finely decorated, perfect for the celebration.
A woman sat on the white throne, a soft glow of gold came from the pendant upon her neck. Drapes in purple silk, a ruby smile on her lips. She was happy, her people were happy. Her kingdom was happy. Wealthy, healthy, and most of all safe .
Standing up, the woman with the glowing pendant descended a couple steps from the terrace. Tapping a spoon against her glass, the chimes rang across. Ambassadors, advisors, nobles, and all others in the room quieted down, raising their heads to the throne.
Raising her voice, the woman spoke with happiness, peace. “Today everyone, is a day of celebration. The war that ravaged our lands and our neighbors for ten years was finally brought to an end.” Turning towards a man covered in fine green, silver curving around opals resting upon his head, she raised her glass. “To a lifetime of friendship.” The man raised his glass in turn, and together they drank.
“To the Queen, and friendship!” The room chanted, and merriness came in another wave.
The King watched the Queen sit down, face trained in a neutral expression. Eyes, darts of poison.
Gold chains clinked.
A twang of string went unnoticed. The crack of marble did not.
Screams soon shattered the joyful atmosphere, like blood pooling. Life drains from warm brown eyes.
The King with poison eyes smiled as he walked up to the limp body. Crouching down, he whispered the final words the kind woman would hear. “You are but a mouse, wanting its cheese, squirming in its trap, waiting for death.” Standing up, he ripped the golden pendant from her neck.
He walked away, as if he was not but another grim reaper.
Phil stumbled backwards from the throne. Ocean eyes frantically cleared away the cloudiness. The void was thick. Death poison green , it said. Warmth went cold. Fire long gone.
He squeezed his eyes, breathy gasps racking his body.
The poor Queen. She just wanted everyone to be happy. She didn’t deserve that, no one did.
Phil slowly turned towards the hallway, wanting to be gone from a place of hurt. A shimmer caught his eye. Looking down, a single pearl laid in a pile of dust. He picked it up.
A prize. The world sang. The Queen’s prize.
The young man left the palace, left the city, left the cavern that just wanted peace. He flew home, with a red-smile staining his mind.