The Unquiet Dead

The one who is yet to rest and rise knows not why he was awoken. He is but to slay and bring down his foes to what he once was. But he will regret all that he has done. The release of death won't be an escape for him when he is risen again, and again, and again.


5. Chapter V - Rest and Return (II)

The living silhouette looked down at its hands in astonishment and bewilderment, silently and gently, closing its palms and opening them like flowers. It looked around the cold room, averting The Prophet's hooded gaze. 

"You must have no end of questions." The Prophet spoke softly to it. "You have been dead a long time, and you will see a lot of things you will not understand." The shadow looked back into his draped stare, still confusion upon its blank face. "What is your name, Champion?" The Prophet enquired, yet it did not reply for quite some time. 

"Ora..." it began with a slow drone. "Oralus." it stated again with more effort. "My name is Oralus." The Prophet chuckled ever so lightly under his breath. 

"At least you can remember your own name." he replied. "Come. Stand up." Oralus shakily came to his foot gradually, like a rusty engine. "What is the last thing you remember, Oralus?"

"I... I..." he murmured. 

"You, you? Yes of course, who would know any better?" The Prophet persisted with his humour. 

"I can remember... a-a-a field. A battlefield. With hideous and beastly screams." he said in faint breaths, as if his senses were starting to reboot themselves again. 

"Do go on." Chitchin spoke, perched upon The Prophet's collar. 

"Vov... Vovarácks... Thousands of them... Chanting... howling..." 

"How did you die?" The Prophet questioned, getting pulled into the information. 

"I was vanquished... by one of them. I-I didn't place his face, for the blow was to my back when we were surrounded." 

"Do you know who were fighting for?" The Prophet questioned, yet Oralus did not answer. Only silent. Not an unsher of a word in unknowing thought. "Then I best explain it to you all, Oralus. This way." he walked out of the cold room and out into his study. 

"What is going on? Who are you?!" Oralus started to raise his voice, wondering when his questions would be answered as The Prophet kept strolling.  

The Prophet looked out of the window, down at the people below as he only saw more dismay and sadness. 

"Oralus, you lived in a time when we, as a kingdom, were much more powerful." Oralus was starting get curious as to what this stranger to him was looking at through the glass. "But that was long ago..." He crept closer. "They call me The Prophet. Someone who made this Kingdom great." Oralus suddenly froze with astonishment, looking at The Prophet with wonder in his eyes. 

"You are The Prophet? The one who speaks for Roslandia and her judgement?!" 

"Yes, Oralus." he turned as his visible mouth lightly smiled. "Back in the days that you were alive, the Vovoarácks were but a tale that wafted through the streets to frighten children. However now, the children are frightened anyway." Oralus then finally looked out of the window and down at the city. He could see the pain, the suffering and the tears for himself of what the kingdom had become. "You, Oralus, are Roslandia's Chosen. The One who was yet to rest and return... Her Champion of Life." Oralus seemed puzzled and baffled by the prospect. 

"What can I do?"

The Prophet turned his head slowly to him from over his shoulder. 

"You must push back these foul creatures. Be the hero that this kingdom so desperately needs. Become the Lady of Life's weapon against these worshippers of chaos, despair and anguish." Still he smoothly spoke. "The Great Lady has given you such powers already, Oralus. She has gifted your soul that shines so bright in your heart. Unfortunate as it is, we could not use your own body, otherwise you would not have this pitch skin. But join us. Join us in this fight, as Roslandia's Chosen."

Oralus pondered as The Prophet held out his hand gently. Soon, Oralus took his hand firmly, and shook it with a single nod of his head. 

"I will do it." he said strongly and with a will to match. 

"Well done, Oralus. You will make this city and land mighty again, I know it." The Prophet smiled. "I must show you to the Stout Council first, who I am sure will adorn you with great gifts." The owl perched herself on Oralus' shoulder, to his surprise. "Chitchin, my companion here, will guide you. I know that she picked you correctly." Chitchin beamed with a lying look of surety on her face.  

"But remember, Oralus." The Prophet spoke finally. "To be a hero, you have to be willing to die for what you are fighting for." 

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