The Darkness Steals The Light - The Elim Chronicles

Revelations

If serving others were deemed a heroic act, then Cecil would undoubtedly stand as the epitome of gallantry. His servile demeanor comes with captivating dramatic flair, drawing all those around him into his charismatic presence. Yet, behind his polished facade, I perceive an adept manipulator, full of cunning, deftly maneuvering to advance his own status.

Danan. The Third Great Age. 3031.

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Slumber and reality converge as Danan awakens from his inertia with a drawn-out grunt, squinting through sticky eyes bound like balls of clay. Danan props himself up, reclining on his elbows, and takes a deep, waking breath.

The bright morning sun shines into the huge bed chamber. His mouth is sticky, and his throat is drier than ash. Danan's mind searches through thick clouds of mental fog. The warm air is rich and laden with the smell of heady musk and rich spices. Bees hum, and peacocks scream. The faint sound of tremendous applause echoes in the distance. Wood beats down on hard stone with a loud, rhythmic knock.

Danan's senses return, and his vision swims in a sea of yellow orbs. The tiny specs of light dance and play like snowflakes in the breeze. His headaches with a dull ringing in his ears.

A low and muffled voice calls in his hollowed world. "Good afternoon, sir. It's a very welcome sight to see you awake. I thought you may sleep for a great age."

Danan's ears squeak and pop open as he coughs. He rubs vicious circles over his heavy eyes with a furious repetition of blinks.

"Thank you," Danan mumbles through clotted lips. "Where am I?" His vision swims amidst the bright sunlight pouring through the open windows, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow across the opulent room. Disoriented, he rubs his temples to ease his throbbing headache.

"Forgive me, sir. I forgot my manners," the high-pitched voice pipes up again. "I am Cecil, and you are on the estate of Lord Varesh. You've been sleeping for no less than six turns of the sun."

Danan takes in the grandeur of his bedchamber for the first time. Nestled within a soft cloud of pristine white bed linen, Danan marvels at the grandeur of his surroundings in an enormous, vaulted bedchamber adorned in lustrous white. The straight, polished walls ascend to a lavish stuccoed ceiling layered with opulent ivory and gold. Fine frescoes decorate the walls above an intricate mosaic floor. The immaculate space features exquisite hand-carved wooden furniture throughout. A large, round polished table with two long, sweeping legs stands at the center of the room. An open cabinet houses a small collection of strange yet beautiful fossils of exotic birds and beasts, suspended in time. Curious statues stand in alcoves, and great gleaming marble columns support majestic archways connected with joining doors.

"I've tended to you day and night, sir," the youth says, perched on a luxurious sleigh sofa at the end of Danan's imposing bed.

Cecil's face is pale and austere, his high cheekbones holding a tight, pretentious smile. "Is the chamber to your liking, sir?" The youth flashes a cheshire grin of clenched white teeth. A pair of neat, plucked, and elegant eyebrows rise in curiosity above a polished brow with perfect, side-parted, slick black hair. Cecil dons a rehearsed smile, clasping his hands in prayer and tapping his nimble fingertips together. "I dare say this is a little more comfortable than your former quarters."

Danan tugs at clumps of ruffled hair and gawks like a fish in a bowl as he searches for words, adrift in a sea of formality. "The One and Lord Varesh have been most gracious, sir."

"I am no sir," Cecil announces, then stands with a sudden bound, clicking his polished heels together with an elaborate knock. He raises his head high on his gangly neck. Cecil polishes his nails, and his words drip with condescension, each syllable meticulously pronounced. "I am a mere servant of our lord, his personal aide." Cecil peers down at Danan over his hawkish nose, smoothing down his tailored yellow silk robe with white trousers that cling to his toothpick legs. "Lord Varesh has impeccable taste, sir. His love for freedom and harmony is clear throughout his estate. Each room is meticulously decorated with a distinct purpose," Cecil boasts, gesturing around the opulent chamber with a smug grin.