Chapter 3: Treat the Symptom (2/4)
As the memory ends Thayde smiles, remembering the warmth of his old companion. They would run throughout the castle playing tag, and hiding from each other. Ebony's optimistic look at life, greeting everything as a personal conquest, brought a light that did not previously exist in his life.
Flashes of crimson streaked through his mind and he felt his muscles relax around his mouth. His eyes dimmed as the genuine smile he wore faded away, leaving behind a blank slate.
It did not take long for his once idyllic lifestyle to be thrown awry.
————————1 month after Light's Dawning————————
Ebony is happy. She is never hungry nor thirsty, hot nor cold. She receives as many pets as she wants, and her little brother plays with her. Though she can't help feeling a little sad that he doesn't run with her all day long, instead choosing to sit still looking at books for hours, or listening to the ceaseless lectures.
That is why today, she is out alone. She knows that he will finish soon, as it is almost time for a walk, but she had been feeling restless and so had been separated from her little brother. Just for trying to nibble on the shoe of some old guy!
With a huff, she continues down the entryway before stopping at the object of this conquest. The barrier that divides the inside from the outside. She does not need to wait long until a servant enters through the door, giving her just enough room to bolt through his legs and out into the garden of the castle.
Today is a day to explore!
The sun shining overhead heats the black fur of her head, shoulders, and back as a cool breeze rustles the bone branches of the leafless trees before running its chilling fingers through her fluffy pelt. She shivered, it was colder outside than she thought it would be.
On either side of the frequently used cobbled pathway that connected the palace to the city layed a thick blanket of snow spiked with the occasional skeletal remains of trees hibernating in the midwinter weather. Ebony was curious about the blanket. It looks thicker than the ones that her little brother uses to keep warm at night. She wonders if it is just as warm and can't help but jump onto the warm blanket.
Or at least she tries to.
She had decided to jump on the thickest bulge of the blanket, obviously what would be the softest part. However, instead of feeling the pleasant prickle of a soft blanket and its accompanying warmth, she instead submerges with a poof into the powdery substance that then sends lances of cold at her. While her fur protects most of her body, her nose quickly succumbs to the temperature and promptly ceases to function leaving Ebony confused, disoriented, and mostly blind.
With a couple of wiggles she does her best to make it out of the snow. Inhaling deep she tries to better understand the powdery substance. It was no use. All she could feel was the prickle of a cold numbing sensation. Uncomfortable, but not concerned, she sends a quick glance down the path and readies herself to continue the adventure.
She takes two steps before her ears flick to catch a noise coming from behind her.
Pain coiled around her hind leg tightening to restrain it before being followed by several deep jabs of fiery agony as the bones inside snapped. In her panic, Ebony could only collapse with a yip as whatever caught her ground further and slowly crushed what remained of her bones into a powder as fine and white as the serene snow beside her.
Thayde sat relaxed at a table. To his side stood a large man in an elegant set of half plate, pointing towards a large parchment. The parchment itself was a map, on which several blocks of different shapes and sizes were laid representing armies. Luthyr Merryl, captain of the knights and strategist of the army, kept motioning to distinct pieces on the map and explained the advantages and disadvantages of each piece. The topic of today's discussion was warfare. Not a popular topic in Tyl, but knowledge is power, right?
In fact, Thayde really enjoys this class. Each scenario the Captain presents is a unique challenge, a problem that needs a definitive solution. A response that ensures a quick and clean victory. Laying out winning strategies decided the battle, war and therefore the outcome. Just as much can be gained from a battle as lost.
Today however, Thayde was not the most focused student. He constantly imagined the adventure that Ebony must be on right now, traipsing through the rooms and corridors of the palace, and hassling the maids as they worked. Coming back to himself Thayde realized he had been staring at the door again as if heart and mind were ensnared.
He quickly returned his attention to what the captain was saying. He had moved on from explaining the roles of the army.
"Ranged units are better at a higher elevation than the enemy. Place them here and here…"
On and on it went. He appreciated the effort the captain was making to teach him — the man normally spoke fewer words than a knight had arrows — but he also tended to repeat himself quite often. Thayde already had a solution in mind but was waiting patiently. Real patiently.
Slowly, his mind returned to the concern that clung and clawed at his heart. The memory of Ebony stealing and chewing on the shoe of the old geezer who had been going on about history brought a smile to Thayde's face. This incident ended with one very angry professor, one banished pup, and one amused princeling.
He couldn't help but glance at the door again. Snow interested the small pup a lot, she would always try to dive in, but retreated on contact. Was she playing in the serene blanket bequeathed by frigid winter? Did she enjoy the pull of the warm white and push of freezing ice?
The Captain stopped speaking.
A yip rang through the window. A desperate cry accompanied by its many echoes which made it seem all the more alone. A cry that pierced the quivering heart of a young boy. Candles on the table extinguished, and the warm mellow tones of the fireplace in the room suddenly flared in much darker, desperate light.
Thayde had frozen as he heard the call. How could he not? His one and only companion called to him; desperate for company, desperate for help, desperate for hope.
Running through the door out into the hall, Thayde ignored the questioning looks sent his way. His face was one never before seen in Tyl; panic and anguish that throbbed through the body pushing it to do only one thing. Move faster.
I need to move faster! His legs burned, his lungs burned, his feet ached; he had never run so fast before. But all that was secondary, he needed to reach his beloved pup that loved him so much, that he loved. And so pushing himself harder, Thayde ran. He flew down steps, cut corners, dodged servants and nearly rammed through all the doors.
Then he was there, in front of the doors that separated the winter from warmth. Pausing to only open the dove and laurel decorated door he was first embraced by the cold. Horror greeted him next.
The crystal snow lay pristine and white to either side of him to frame — the narrow corridor of stone on which he stood a guide — the scene. The white before him had bold splashes of crimson that surrounded two figures. One of them, his beloved pup; the other, a large black hound.
This hound of hell and pain, latched onto the limp remains of her hind leg, shook with all the zeal and muster of an artist. Using its brush to paint the white canvas to its sides, and blur the gray beneath its feet all with a single color. Crimson.
Crimson, was all Thayde could see. His blood poured through, heating him. His vision narrowed: all he could see was the demon in front of him. Running forward he lets out a yell, as he grapples with a hound bigger than him. Moving on his desire to free Ebony, he grabs hold of the jaws and shoves his fingers in between its jaws to pry open the blasted mouth.
The hound itself was quite surprised to find itself restrained, its artwork halted, its mouth violated. The pressure on its jaw slowly pries free the brush it had found. A quick whiff told the beast exactly who had intruded on its moment of creativity. The princeling.
Normally, it would have shrugged him off and barked a couple of times. This time, the boy had something more in his smell: a bitter and tangy scent. Shivers run down its spine before it releases the pup. Squirming it escapes the hands of the boy and runs, promising to finish its artwork at a later date.
Thayde tried his hardest to pin the dog down, but he was too small and weak for such a task. Once he pried the mouth open, a miraculous feat in and of itself, the dog broke free and dashed off to leave the prince and the pup with their aching bodies.
His once racing blood slows and the snow and cold seep in to numb his frayed senses. His vision clears, still flooded with crimson but not foggy. Slowly he turns. The heart, heavy, does its best to stop, not wanting to hold expectations; not even the tiniest ray of hope for his companion. It is better not to expect, not to hope, then have those hopes shattered. That was the lesson for today.
Finally he could see. Ebony's once gleaming fur was matted into heavy clotted clumps of, maybe frozen, blood adding a third color to her pelt. Her hind leg looked similar to a limb from one of the stuffed toys he used to play with. The sleeve had torn, spilling white cotton out.
The fog returned to his eyes, slowly bunching up before it dripped over his face. He cleared his eyes with his hands, or tried to, as he saw the limp leg. The only comfort was that she was unconscious, oblivious to her current state and pain. Panic welled up again with the blood that was still leaking from her wounds. It started in his heart before traveling to his throat to escape through his mouth as he cradled and stroked Ebony.
He heard a scream hollow and devoid of joy so unlike the peals of laughter that were heard throughout the city just a month ago. He shuddered at the sound. It wasn't until he breathed in deep, agitating his now sore throat, that he realized he was the one screaming.
For a heartbeat, a raven's call joined along with the princeling, echoing his cry. Perhaps appreciating the painting he saw from atop his tree, or laughing at the poor boy who's flame was wavering.
The warmth that Thayde usually felt was lost. A hollow cavity remained as cold and empty as a winter plain. The illusion was broken. How could he be happy when something like this happened in the kingdom that was supposed to be a place of hope and warmth? How could he permit himself to feel joy when such an incident tore it from an innocent being inside his very castle? Why did such a thing happen? Didn't the blasted hound realize he had just ruined the life of another creature?
Where was hope? It had been shattered along with his infantile notion that nothing bad could happen. Thayde's blood felt bitter as it pumped through him. Even as the servants and his parents rushed towards him, he felt it flow. It wanted out, to act. But what could he do now?
Thinking of nothing, he sits and rocks, fiery tears fall down his chilled cheeks as he comforts his suffering friend.
His father, the Radiant King, stands behind him giving orders to the servants. And his mother, his sweet sweet mother, quietly kneels to his side and silently wraps her arms around him. He can feel wet drops falling onto his head as she rests her chin against it.
Thayde shivers, though not from the cold outside. His heart is somehow colder than all the ice and snow in the courtyard and nothing, not even his mother's love, was providing any warmth. He was drowning, and freezing all at once; the weight of the incident and the hopelessness crushing him as he sunk ever deeper into the cold clutches of despair.
Losing all sensation, the prince did not recognize when the servant carefully pulled Ebony from his cold hands. Nor when his father and mother called out to him. He didn't even recognize when he finally passed out from the cold and exhaustion.
All he could see were hellhounds painting red stripes on white canvas. All he could hear, a single solitary raven, laughing at the despair.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Sorrowthorn
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