Never to be Sane Again

    A terrified scream echoed off the mountains. Sprawled out on the grass, with blood pooling under him, a boy’s life flashed before his eyes. In his mind’s eye, he saw visions of pain and fear from his childhood. He remembered a terrible, recurring dream he had in his youth. The nightmare had become a reality, and he knew he was going to die. He was growing weak as the blood drained from his body. Reality was slipping away, and he was being sucked into a horrific vision in his own dying mind.

    A thousand maggots squirmed at the bottom of a well. They twisted and writhed around, and slowly they became worms. The worms evolved into snakes before his eyes. With fury that only starvation could invoke, they began to devour each other. Blood and meat was pooling in the bottom of the well. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and it pounded with terror.

    The bloody cesspool began to stir. It bubbled and frothed like a witch’s brew in the blackest of ancient rites. Suddenly, it boiled over and overflowed. A black talon emerged from the massacred well. A shriek pierced through the night, and madness overwhelmed the dying boy’s mind. His vision continued to unfold. Following the talon, a menacing arm emerged. The monster crawled out of the well slowly, as if it was trying to build suspense.

    After a few agonizing moments, it became clear that a dragon was being born. It screamed and roared in pain, submerged in the boiling blood. Its head reared majestically out of the pool. With an almighty roar, it showed off rows of sharp, black fangs. The flames of the underworld burned in its eyes. It sent a pillar of flame fit for the apocalypse towards the stars. With a grunt, it spit molten lava and stared straight into the boy’s mind.

    Screaming, he snapped back to reality. He could see his surroundings again, and the vision had come to a dramatic end. Staring up at his attackers, he suddenly felt different than before. He gazed up at the boys who had massacred him. He looked straight into the eyes of the ones who broke his arm and tried to tear his throat out. They were laughing cruelly at him.

    “I think our work here is done. He’s going to die, let’s steal his gold and get out of here.” A smug-looking bandit shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

    His companion kicked at the boy, and knelt down next to him. He carelessly shifted him onto his side, and began to dig through one of his pockets. With a grin, he pulled out a strange looking coin. It looked very old, and was crafted from the finest silver. The word “Cythrath” was engraved on it. There were more carvings. The thief studied them for a minute, but they were in an archaic language that no one in the world could read anymore.

    “Cythrath? What’s that supposed to mean? Is that a name or something?”

    They both laughed heartily. The redheaded bandit just couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “Sounds like one of those old Vithrathian Cult names. It’s weird. You don’t see people around here with names like that anymore.”

    On the ground, the abused boy was beginning to feel strange. Only a few moments ago, he was convinced he was going to die. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He felt rejuvenated for some reason. In fact, he realized that if he wanted to, he could probably just stand up and walk away. A strange tingle ran down his spine when they mentioned the old cult. He had heard legends of the old magic, and of the dark rites performed in caves in the dead of night. Of course, even mentioning Vithrath or his followers was frowned upon, now. Those days were almost forgotten. The world had changed, and people were trying their best to forget the terrible memories.

    “Cythrath. . . It’s almost kind of eerie. Just because we’re all the way out here in the mountains.” The taller bandit suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. “I haven’t heard a name like that in years. I don’t like it.”
His redheaded companion rolled his eyes. “After all these years, you’re still superstitious. Get over it, Lorn.”

    The tall bandit gazed over his shoulder at the ancient mountains. They loomed eerily over the moor, standing alone in the wilderness. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near those mountains this late at night.” Lorn recalled nightmarish tales of blood sacrifice and voodoo that he heard as a child. He remembered sleepless nights spent hiding under the covers. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so levelheaded all the time, Krono. Strange things come alive in the weird, dark hours when the rest of the world sleeps. People have come out here for a walk and never gone home again.”

    On the ground, Cythrath was listening intently. He pretended to be unconscious, so the bandits would let their guard down. Their conversation was sparking his interest. He never knew why, but he had always been fascinated by tales of the old days.

    Krono scoffed. “They were probably murdered or something. That, or they ran into a hungry dragon. We don’t have to worry about anything, Lorn. We can fight off anything that comes our way.”

    Lorn seemed to be getting more and more nervous. “You don’t understand… It all seems like too much of a coincidence. I didn’t say anything before, but when we were coming out here, I was nervous the entire time.” He kept glancing over his shoulder at those dreadful mountains. “I tried to ignore the fear, but this is just too weird. This kid… Why would a kid with a Vithrathian name be hanging out alone on the moors? He has no reason to be out here. He isn’t from the city, Krono! He’s one of them!” Madness was creeping into his voice, now.

    With a laugh, Krono brushed back his fiery red hair. “One of who? What are you rambling about now?”

    “You know as well as I do, Krono! They never really left… They aren’t really gone. They’re only waiting for their time to come again. Vithrath and his heathen followers are resting and biding their time!”

    A crash resounded throughout the woods, followed by a shrill howl. Both of the bandits jumped. Lorn let out a small scream, and Krono looked like he was ready to run. Cythrath remained calm. He knew he must pretend to be fatally injured, to keep them from harming him any more.
Krono looked annoyed. He had almost lost it for a minute. “All this nonsense must be getting to me… It was only a baby dragon or something.” He scowled.

    The shock had only fueled Lorn’s fear. “Let’s just put his coin back and get out of here. I knew we should have gone someplace else. Why did you want to come out here?” His eyes spun around wildly, searching for danger. “There’s hardly any travelers out here anyway. This was an awful idea.”

    “Why the hell would we put it back? This thing’s probably two centuries old. It’s from before the dawn of the new age! We could buy a new house with the money we’ll get from selling this thing!” Krono’s greed was his defining trait. His desire for wealth and worldly pleasures overshadowed everything, even his common sense. “We’re keeping it.”

    Lorn shivered and looked towards the stars. He had always been an introvert. He was interested in mythology and theology, and fascinated with human nature. He always listened to his heart before anyone else. He trusted his instincts more than he trusted his greedy partner. Lorn and Krono had been best friends for nearly thirteen years. They grew up together, and they were like brothers. Therefore, he knew better than to trust Krono when it came to this sort of thing. He had bad judgment.

    “My grandmother told me stories about these moors when I was a little boy, Krono. She’d roll over in her grave if she knew I was wandering around out here, especially this late at night. I’m not being superstitious. All the old people say it, and they truly do believe it. They say that Vithrath never really died, Krono. They say he’s still alive, and he lives in the darkest cave in the heart of the tallest, oldest mountain in the land.” With a forlorn expression, he pointed at the rocky, behemoth hills in the distance. “And everyone knows the Eovroth Hills are the tallest mountains on this side of Ryuuxalar.” Mortal fear was welling up in the young demon’s heart. His blood was running cold, and he felt small and insignificant.

    “They thought they killed him. They thought that he was gone forever. But every so often, something strange happens out here. It’s really true, Krono.” By looking into his partner’s eyes, Krono could tell that he really did believe what he was saying. “I knew a boy who came out here by himself one night. It was years ago, when I was still a kid. He was about fifteen at the time, I think. He came out here with his dog, and nobody ever saw him again.” There was a deadly pause. “Until his body was found at the bottom of a well a few miles from this very spot.”

    Cythrath immediately jumped. The words stung his mind like the coldest ice. “At the bottom of a well…” He whispered it to himself, and remembered his strange vision from before. He remembered how the maggots became a dragon.

    Krono shrugged. “Why the hell would there be a well out here, anyway?”
“Not a normal well, you moron! They dug huge holes in the ground and used them in their rites! They summoned things out of them! Dark things that should never have been born, out of the center of the Earth…” His voice trailed off. “I can’t believe you don’t know any of this… Don’t you know anything about the past? Haven’t you ever wondered about the history of our world at all?”

    “I’m not afraid of those things, Lorn. Everybody knows that Vithrath has been dead for almost two centuries now.”

    “Then what about what happened a few years back? Remember when they found all the missing people, Krono? Remember when they found them all cut up, rotting in dried blood in a hole out by the mountains? Who put them there? If it wasn’t Vithrath, then it was the devil himself!”

    Krono chuckled. “There’s no proof that those people were the ones who disappeared from our city. King Marduk told us all that they were just prisoners. Prisoners from other planets that we experimented on. They had to dump the bodies somewhere, and that was the perfect place.”

    “Those people weren’t prisoners! They were obviously the same race as you and me. Marduk is a liar, and he has been for the past thousand years. He just knows what will happen if word gets out that Vithrath is rising again.” Lorn was getting tired of arguing. He just wanted to get out of this terrible place. He was growing more terrified by the minute. More and more dark tales kept popping into his head. He kept remembering blood-chilling legends that made him want to run for his life.

    “You know as well as I do that you’re just letting your imagination go wild.” Krono looked as confident as ever, now. However, on the inside, he was feeling a bit anxious. “If Vithrath rose again from the shadows, the entire hemisphere would be in chaos. The generals would call us all to arms, and a plan would be unleashed immediately. The main focus of all the government’s efforts would be directed at bringing him down! If Marduk or any of the others had any suspicions, we would have heard about it by now.”

    Lorn muttered something to himself.

    “You’re just getting antsy because we’re out in the middle of nowhere.” Trying to reassure his friend, Krono frowned. “Anyone would be nervous, if they thought about all the old stories about this place. But the truth is, there’s nothing out here anymore but weary travelers. Maybe something awful happened on these moors, but that was long before we were born.”

    By saying these strong words, he was trying to reassure himself as well as Lorn. But it wasn’t working. He suddenly got an odd feeling, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He could have sworn he saw something dart through the trees in the distance, out of the corner of his eye. But when he tried to focus on it, it was gone.

    “Listen, Krono. I have a really bad feeling in the pit of my gut.” When Lorn said this, his voice was trembling. “Let’s just leave the past alone, and forget we ever came out here, okay? I say we just head back to the city and ditch this kid. When someone finds him, they’ll just think the wolves got him or something. Let’s just wash our hands of it.”

    Despite the fact that he was growing scared, Krono’s greed still prevailed. “Fine, we’ll leave. But we’re taking the coin with us.” He looked down at Cythrath, who was lying as still as a rock on the ground. His breathing appeared to be shallow, and he was very pale. “If he ever does wake up, he won’t even know what hit him. He’ll crawl back to town and think he dropped it along the way or something.” However, Krono couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling of unease he felt when he looked at the injured boy. “Is this guilt?” He spoke very quietly, as if to himself. “Or is it fear?”

    Both emotions were somewhat foreign to him, up until now. He had lived a lawless, deceitful life for as long as he could remember. He always stuck to the shadows. Krono was an outcast of society, and everything he ever owned was stolen or won from a gamble. Years of living as a bandit had made him calloused. Very rarely did he experience any empathetic emotions, especially guilt. The only person he ever thought about was himself. He spent the entirety of his short, pitiful life pursuing his own desires.

    Fear was also unknown to this shadow of a man. Up until now, his attitude about life was very indifferent. If anyone asked, he would boldly state that he didn’t care if he lived or died. But alone on the moors under a wicked full moon, he suddenly didn’t feel so brave. When he was staring terror straight in the eye, he discovered that he, too, was afraid. Facing the horrors of forgotten centuries had brought out his true nature. He began to regret ever leaving the city on that cold, lonely night. As the reality of the situation settled into his racing mind, his blood turned to ice.

    Krono stared off into the distance for a moment. He was suddenly amazed by the sheer height of the surrounding trees. They reached towards the sky in a way that made him feel like a little bug. Their majestic bows were illuminated by the moonlight, like something out of a dream. Faint, damaged spider webs weaved through some of the higher branches. He shuddered as he imagined the size of the spider that crafted such a web.

    He took a deep breath and inhaled the cool air. It was much more refreshing than the polluted air from the city. Strangely, it felt like it was the first time he breathed in a very long time. By accepting his fear, he felt like he was relinquishing a heavy burden. All these years he had lied to himself, and tried to act like he didn’t care. But now he realized that he truly did appreciate this strange, fragile thing known as life.

    Looking down at Cythrath, he noticed that his breathing was growing a bit more regular.

    Cythrath was lost in thought. He was trying to stay very still, but this act was growing tiresome. He longed for the bandits to take their leave, so he could stand up and move freely again.

    Krono reached into his pocket and dug out the weird coin. It displayed countless signs of antiquity. It looked like something a grave robber would dig up, or like a piece of old space pirate treasure. “Something tells me we should hold on to this. It seems special. I know you don’t like the idea of bringing it back, Lorn. But some things are worth risking your life for.”

    Lorn appeared to be mesmerized by the tarnished coin. He stared at it for a moment, almost longingly. “Let me see…” His hand trembled a bit as he reached out for it. When Krono placed it in his hand, he jerked back a bit, as if he had stuck his hand into a fire.

    Studying it for a moment, he had the oddest feeling. It was almost as if he had seen this word somewhere before. “Cythrath…” He read it to himself in a hushed tone. “Cythrath…”

    Suddenly, a scream from the depths of Lorn’s terrified heart resounded throughout the land. Pure, unrestrained madness came to life in his eyes. He fell to his knees. “It’s … the old alphabet.” His words were barely audible, as his voice shook with fear. “In the old days… They didn’t speak the way they do now.”

    Krono swore he saw a tear run down Lorn’s cheek. He could sense his friend’s panic, and he too became horrified by the revelation.

    “It’s the old northern dialect… Cyth… Vith…” His words shifted to an inaudible muttering.

    Both of them were too afraid to notice that Cythrath had finally staggered to his feet. A cruel chuckle uncharacteristic of a child rang through their ears.

    The two bandits backed up, clinging to each other, now. Lorn threw the coin on the ground before they tried to run. In a fraction of a second, they both turned their backs and began to bolt through the trees.

    They didn’t get very far before they were intercepted by a tall, robed figure. Like something out of a nightmare, he gripped Lorn in a fearsome chokehold. Another creature revealed itself, stepping out of the shadows to headlock Krono. They had a strange, musty odor that only added to the terror of the whole situation. As the minions forced the bandits to turn back around, their hearts nearly stopped at what they saw.

    “I descended from the stars three centuries ago to reign over your majestic world. I ruled your people with an iron fist for a hundred years! Everyone in the world thinks I died, along with my glorious empire. But you can’t kill that which was never alive to begin with!” Laughing maniacally, Vithrath’s body began to emit a blazing purple glow. His flesh morphed and boiled. The childlike face peeled off to reveal the monster underneath. His bones grew instantly, and within seconds he was standing at his true height. The skin pulled off to expose muscle and bloody tissue. But just as it had shed, new skin grew out of thin air. There were a few clumps of hair lying at his feet.

    Deception and disguise was one of the first tricks Vithrath had ever perfected. Most people were so shallow and weak-minded that they would never even question any of his shapeshifting disguises. By doing a simple black magic trick, he could change his body into the shape of any person he could possibly imagine.

    His hair was long and white, reaching farther than his waist. It flowed elegantly down his back. He wore a robe similar to the ones his minions were wearing. Menacing red eyes pierced the heart of anyone who dared to gaze into them. Vithrath’s skin was nearly white, and so thin that many of his veins were faintly visible.

    Krono’s eyes spun around wildly. He looked over at Lorn, and found that he was unconscious. Either the cloaked demon had choked him out, or he had fainted. He felt very faint as well. Nothing he was seeing made sense at all. Countless questions raced through his frantic mind. He had the strange sensation that everything he had ever been told about the nature of the world was a lie. He had no idea what to say, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “So I suppose you’re going to kill me…”

    When he looked over at Lorn, he felt sorrow rise up in the pit of his stomach. His face had turned purple, and it looked like the demon was still applying force to his neck. Intuition told him that he was already dead. To Krono, it seemed obvious that the same fate was in store for him.

    Vithrath laughed again, as if he was mocking him. There was something haunting about his presence. Krono had never felt like this before. There are no words to describe what took place in his mind at that time. His entire life had been spent living without feeling, without experiencing any emotions but greed and lust. But there he was, face to face with one of the most legendary people in the history of his world. The man who had sent all of Ryuuxalar into a state of madness for a hundred years. The man who overcame death itself. The man that he saw in his nightmares as a child.

    He was strangely calm for such a cataclysmic, life-changing moment. It was almost as if he was at peace with his fate. The shadowy figure restraining him was beginning to hurt his neck badly. But he knew he couldn’t pass out yet. This was his last chance in all of time and space to be alive. He was going to die. He thought he was plundering an innocent little boy, but his victim turned out to be the legendary Devil himself. Karma was cruel.

    Krono realized he should have had more sense. Why would a little boy be out in the mountains by himself at this ungodly hour? It was obviously bad judgment on his part. But it was too late now. He dug his own grave, and the time had come to lay in it. All those years of murdering innocent people, robbing unsuspecting victims, and disregarding everyone else’s feelings had finally caught up to him. But somehow he felt relieved to know that there was some justice in the world.

    Muttering to himself, Krono stared at the devil god with empty eyes. This was it. He had laughed at death for all these years, but it wasn’t so funny when it finally caught up to him. Now he knew how all his past victims felt. He remembered the little girl he had raped and killed one lonely midsummer’s night, many years ago. Sometimes in his nightmares, he still heard her screaming. He recalled the day he slaughtered the Mistress of Vrothwrath for her emerald dragonite diamond, and how her children had cried when they found their mother lying there on the floor. The past flashed before his eyes in slow-motion.

    “Your regrets burn so furiously that I can taste them, young one.” Vithrath looked delighted, and licked his thin red lips. He savored the imperceptible taste, and laughed to himself. “Doesn’t everything look a bit different when your life is flashing before your eyes? But no tears cloud your vision… Only dreams of what would have been and could have been.”
Krono nodded. He watched in dismay as the dead body of his lifelong friend fell to the ground.

    “Why?” In all his disbelief and weakness, he could only manage to choke out a solitary word.

    “Because what goes around comes around, young one.” The thought seemed to amuse Vithrath. He ran a bony hand through his hair, and clasped the beautiful jewel that hung from his neck by a grotesque chain. “Of all the people in the world… Of everyone else I could have revealed myself to, I chose you.”

    Krono couldn’t stop himself from feeling honored. The legendary devil god from ages past had chosen him, of all the people in the world. Knowing this made him feel incredible. It gave him the strength to speak again. His words were stifled by the hooded figure’s rough grip, but he managed to choke them out. “For what? What did I do to deserve this? Why haven’t you killed me yet? Why—“ Suddenly, he stopped. He swore under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

    “This is like something out of a nightmare. Kill me now and set me free, before I go mad.” Sweat ran down his forehead.

    Smirking deviously, Vithrath continued to stare at Krono. “Don’t you see? You already are free! You’ve been free since the day you were born, to roam the Earth and do as you wish. You chose to abuse your power… To impose your wrath on weaker beings. I can see it in your eyes.”

    The hooded figure jerked Krono’s head upward, and forced him to stare at the demon before him. His cold grey eyes grew wide as they met Vithrath’s. Their gazes locked together, and for a moment, everything in Krono’s world went black. His memories, his dreams, his desires, his fears… All returned to nothing and merged into one. Everything was dark, and his heart was one with the monster’s. He was exposed and weak, ready and willing to die. He forgot who he was and everything he ever stood for.

    Vithrath enjoyed disgusting vistas of carnage and pain. He saw Krono and Lorn take turns bashing a woman’s skull in to steal a few gold coins. He saw Krono degrade a little girl to tears. In one glorious display of violence, he stole her virginity and her life. The visions of the past overwhelmed Krono’s mind, as Vithrath dug through the blackest corners of his soul. The devil god saw everyone he had ever hurt.

    Krono suddenly saw something grotesque and riveting. A giant hole in the ground… It was full of something that looked disturbingly similar to blood. Worms writhed in the vile goo, and a scaly, ebony arm began to stretch out… The rest was blurry, but he could have sworn he saw a dragon emerge from the pit.

    When Krono’s vision returned, he was laying on the ground. The robed figure had stopped restraining him, and his head felt like someone had injected liquid nitrogen into it. There was a relentless ringing in his ears.
Vithrath stood before him in all his glory. Krono could practically taste the sheer power radiating from his being. Vithrath grinned and savored the gruesome memories. “Now you understand. They’re still with you to this day, you know.”

    There was a pile of vomit next to Krono’s shaking frame. He still felt violently ill, and had the strange feeling that he would never be the same again.

    “But never forget, young one... Whenever you’re alone in the dark… Whenever the full moon shines down on you from the black night sky… Whenever you’re alone, and no one’s there to hear you scream… They’re there. And I’m there, too. I’ll be in your heart forever, watching… Waiting for you to spill more blood. Waiting for you to tear more lives apart.”
Krono thought he was going to faint. The hooded figures had backed away, now. He rested his back up against a tree, and looked over at his partner’s dead, glassy eyes.

    “All the pain you’ve ever felt… Every dark desire you’ve ever had. Every heart you’ve ever broken, every life you ever shattered. Every soul you ever touched in any way, be it good or bad… I’ve seen it all.” The glorious stone around Vithrath’s neck pulsed and glowed. It shone through the dark with an unearthly beauty. It was like nothing Krono had ever seen before. Every bandit in the galaxy would lust after a gem like that.

    “And remember, Krono. As the worm became a dragon, I will become a king. I will reign over all of Ryuuxalar with an iron fist, and even Marduk will bow down to me. Everything you’ve ever seen will be mine someday! I will rise out of the darkness and take back my rightful throne, and I will drag the entire world to hell along with me!”

    Krono’s world was spinning. He focused on the stars, across the universe and a million miles away.

    “You know what will happen if you tell anyone what you saw here tonight… I don’t need to say any more.” Vithrath’s deranged grin was enough to make anyone stay silent for all eternity. Rows of fangs gleamed behind his wine-red lips.

    “Keep up the good work, little one. I’m pleased with what you’ve done so far. Go forth and spread misery and pain throughout the land. You’re only bringing the world one step closer to where I want it to be.”

    Vithrath beckoned to his loyal followers, and they trudged over to him. They didn’t say a word, but one looked back over his shoulder at Krono.

    “Goodbye, Krono. I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

    As soon as he had come, Vithrath was gone. He led his minions through the trees, and they swiftly disappeared into the forest. Krono heard one last maddening laugh. He covered his ears to refrain from going mad.

    He laid there for a long time, trying to muster up the strength to walk. Eventually, sleep crept up on him and he passed out for a long time.

    Krono wasn’t sure how long he was out in the woods. All he knew was that when he awoke, the sun was high in the sky. His back ached from lying in a strange position all night. With a loud groan, he managed to climb to his feet.

    His heart ached instantly when he saw Lorn, dead on the floor of the forest. A little bird was pecking at his eye. Krono screamed and kicked at the pest, and heaved his friend’s body up over his shoulder. He began the long, slow walk back to the city.

    The next day, Krono left Ryuuxalar and made a promise to himself that he would never return. As the ship was leaving the space port, he was lost in his own thoughts. He remembered the monolithic mountains, which were said to be the tallest in the galaxy. He dreamed of the imperial halls in the capital city, known throughout the universe as the paragon of all architecture. His thoughts drifted to the days of his youth. Nostalgia overwhelmed him as he recalled how he chased Lorn around through peaceful thickets of trees that seemed to stretch for miles into the sky.

    Then, those dreadful, demonic red eyes pierced through his soul once more. He remembered the nightmare that sleeps in darkness at the heart of his beloved homeworld. He remembered the warning, straight from the mouth of the only creature that he had ever feared.

    Krono never looked back.