Campaign entries - Caspian: Marooned in Mushrooms, ch2 - crown for a coward - 899 words

This wasn't right. It wasn't aligned right. It was even more wrong than the last time. The magic didn't go sideways, but upside down. Twisted into knots that never untied. What did it have against them being a group? Why did it do this - and where the hell were they going, if this wasn't the right turn?

 

The Chaos unfolded itself before him, only to curl back into itself - and to pummel through his very being, to wrap its tendrils around him

 

and to never let go.

 

Caspian could feel the obsidian throne under him. Its jagged edges and cracks pressed against his thighs and forearms. Its sharpness dug itself into the skin draped over his shoulder blades.

 

He couldn't move. He was chained into it, destined to never, ever step outside the throne room again. And his chains glimmered in gold, the jewelry chains so thin, that one could snap them with only a breath. And yet, they held him in place, still just as efficiently as a spear through his abdomen would.

 

Caspian shook his head vigorously. Where did that one come from? A thought so strange and piercing, he knew he hadn't faced it before.

 

Something called his name. Pronounced it so smoothly and elegantly, that it could make one's mind heavy. But the voice didn't match its bearer. For the umpteenth time falling through the layers of the realm churning on discord, and discord alone, the green haired vixen stood before him. In her fanned out hands, she held her very own crown, one horn resting on each open palm. Caspian lifted his eyes to her forehead. Only their bases remained, the bleeding core exposed for all to see. The black liquid fell upwards, clinging to the air around it for a blink before accepting its fate. Her eyes held closed, dark strands ran down her cheeks. Her expression serene, and then - her blackened tongue moved.

 

Burn thy witch, the stake runneth through her now.

 

The voice didn't rise from her throat. Caspian clasped his jaws together, to prevent his teeth from chattering.

"Stop it," he pleaded. Greenheart's chin rose.

 

Thy King, ridden of his head, it rolleth down the gore-soaked hill.

 

"Stop it," Caspian begged, his voice breaking from the words he heard. For the first time, he heard them here - and they kept repeating, over, and over, and over again. So many layers had a version of them, and none told him what was their meaning. They clamped around his rib cage like a bear trap, carving out his marrow.

 

Come home, and avow.

 

"STOP IT!"

 

Thy Prince has fallen ill.

 

And her eyes opened. Back at Caspian stared a gaze, soulless and pale. Her eyes solid white, emanating a cold glow. Caspian pressed himself against the backrest - but it would never be far enough. Nowhere would be far enough. Greenheart's head tilted with an unnerving twitch. Didn't he want it?

 

Caspian pinched his eyes shut, and pressed his chin against his chest. No, he did not. She didn't understand. It was for him to wear!

 

The eternal opened his eyes, and saw the other closer than before. She moved in phases, between blinks, between breaths. And the crown was his, for his head! He deserved to be crowned!

 

Caspian tried to press further into the backrest in vain. He had his own, cursed crown already, thank you very much. Greenheart's curved claws curled around her horns. Her posture tensed, her shoulders rising. Caspian closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. He felt the realm spinning in circles, chasing its own tail. It desperately tried to break him, even if it would happen one single cell at a time. His suffering would be eternal, and it would make sure of it. The same scenarios stared right back at him, over and over again. Same eyes, same arguments, same bite marks. Same bones broken in an instant, mended to be shattered again.

 

But silence spoke louder than his absent pain. He didn't feel the two dark horns fusing into his skull. She didn't try to crown him. Slowly Caspian opened his eyes, one after the other.

 

Kate was gone. In the middle of his field of view stood a familiar figure. A growl got stuck in Caspian's throat, as it walked closer with a sick lightness in its step.

 

Into the impossible light stepped his own image - hair black as the night, body adorned in a spiked, sadistic armor, and eyes crimson. Caspian had lost count how many times he had seen the bastard in the last two hours alone.

"Enough with your bullshit!" Caspian seethed at his own, twisted image. It raised its brow in an amused surprise at his reaction, as he leaned forward on the throne. The golden wire dug itself into his scales. Just let him tear its throat open. Enough with these stupid games.

 

The gruesome figure's eyes widened, its smile stretching into a grin. It chuckled, voice deep and ominous, like the calm before a storm. It leaned forward, placing its palms on its thighs. Stopping only right at Caspian's face, he didn't budge. He wasn't afraid of it. Its slit pupils narrowed. He knew it heard his every thought. It lifted its hand, middle finger and thumb held together.

 

"Game over."

 

Snap.

 

Caspian gasped for air as he rose into a sitting position in his bed.