Chapter 19: The Darkest Heart

            The room the group had made a temporary home had gone to rest, only the sound of shifting dirt could be heard as somebody rolled. Tension was thick, although everybody was sleeping it was apparent their dreams carried visions of fear and distrust. Every so often one of them would cough, clearing their airway from the dry dirt of which they rest upon. Zoeloft was restless, and the little noise emitted every so often crawled up his spine like a nest of spiders making it impossible for rest. Laying there, nothing but awake, his mind began to wonder. He was not a very educated man, and did not know much about lands outside of his own, despite having travelled through caves. Places he knew of, but population and history always a mystery. Pulling himself to an upright position he rested against the wall, sweat ran off his forehead. Thoughts of the dark elves were taking over, as well as the lies he had whispered to his comrade. The more the thoughts raced through his mind, the more they took on characteristics of a parasite, consuming any other thought. He had to know what the elves were after, it called to him, without any idea of what it was, he needed to possess that power. Jasper rolled over,  his face met a flicker of light peaking through the window from a torch just outside. As it flicked across his face, Zoeloft only saw a distorted man, one that no longer believed in him. Jasper would not know of the new ideas festering behind his smile, he knew his back would turn and the small tear between them would be tugged until all gave way. The ideas turned to dreams as finally the tainted man shut his eyes, relaxing with the corruption that he was becoming. 

Zoeloft was the first to awake. The sky was a dull grey, the light from the torch illuminating the room ever so slightly. His companions were asleep, and there was no sign of movement throughout the kingdom. Zoeloft left the house, the echoing thud of his footsteps resounding through the stairwell. The doorway was an ugly brown, the wood was rotten and termites crawled across the repulsive frame. Still, Zoeloft knew the old courtyard lay behind the door that he had once known so well. His hand rested on the cold and rusty handle, as the man paused; he wondered if this was who he was, if this man with his hand on an old and rusty handle was the innocent boy who rode horses until dusk. A soft, yet audible creek could be heard as the sound of an old and rotten door was pushed forward.

The courtyard was as Zoeloft had remembered, but it was not a happy place, it encompassed the depressing colour of grey. The fountain had dried up, and the sun would not show its light to sparkle and dance on the pale stone. A cold wind from the west filled Zoeloft’s lungs. Inside Zoeloft realized that each breath was filled by the cold act of malice and fear that was brought about by his anger, his jealousy and his lust for power. Several stones lay on the tiled courtyard, a sign of a crumbling empire. Zoeloft kicked one; the stone flew to the far side of the yard making a soft sound as it bounced off the ground. As Zoeloft began to retrieve the pebble he heard footsteps and several voices. He cocked his head in an attempt to hear what the voices were saying. He was unable to make out anything as the wind blew its cold lament in his ear.

Through pillars Zoeloft caught a glimpse of the dark elves, a shiver once again crawled through his spine. He enjoyed it though, as if this was how a Werewolf felt on a full moon, howling, praising what had brought him to his darkest yet finest form. The wind echo’d the idea of the howling wolf, Zoeloft had to get closer. Step following step the man got close to what he desired, voices became clearer, squeezing through a small ally the visions and voices became one. Akeldama stood his back to him, he was holding something that Zoeloft couldn’t make out. Intensively listening a picture formed in his head, not knowing if it was in fact the truth, either way power existed and Zoeloft felt his own crying for it. 

“The stone, it’s here.” Akeldama crushed whatever he was holding and dropped in the courtyard. 

“I feel it to.” Zoeloft knew not of either men, the elf was obvious, but the old man responding was that of a wonder. He made up the idea of this being J’vonte’s father. “Do you think with the three we possess they hold enough power to locate it?”

“You are a very wise man Mythra,” the elf placed his hand on the elders shoulder. “I am glad you came to join forces.” A grim smile creased on Zoeloft, J’vonte’s father wasn’t captured as he was told, but a lying deceitful man, one just like himself. 

“If all five can restore the wonders of the lost, I am certain they are meant to find one another.” As the men stepped together, pressing three unknown objects into one another, what the elf had dropped uncovered itself under Akeldama’s foot. Zoeloft eyes grew wide as they glanced upon the sister of the gem in his pocket. Reaching in, he held it there in his hand, his way to the elves, Elise’s earring. 

He drew the earring from his pocket. The blue light that Akeldama and Mythra knew all to well lit up in Zoeloft’s hands. In an instant Akeldama had seen the light and rushed to the source. Zoeloft was brought to his knees by the power that the earring held. Something he could not explain pressured his legs, unhinging them and lowering his body to the cold stone. 

“What you have belongs to me” Akeldama said, his fist emanating the same blue light. 

“It does not belong to either of us, elf.” Zoeloft responded, remembering the day when Elise had worn the elegant jewelry.

“How dare you!” Akeldama extended his arm to strike Zoeloft down. When Myrtha’s voice was heard above the commotion.

  “Leave him, Snake! He has not done anything to you.” The blue light in Akeldama’s hand began to fade and a calm expression could be seen upon his face.

“What do you want?” Akeldama asked, his voice cold. 

“I want to join you” replied Zoeloft.

“And why would I let you join my elves?” 

“Because I have the power that you desperately long for.” Replied Zoeloft holding the earring infront of him, blue light again glowing brighter than before. Akeldama sneered, but could not find a reason not to accept the man’s proposal.

“If I allow you to join in the ranks of the elves, you must first rejoin your friends, and deliver them to me. I knew the moment that you and several other had come to Garitarc. I have sensed the final gem; it is your friend who carries it.” “Jasper” Zoeloft thought. “He has the final jewel.” An anger welled up inside Zoeloft, one that he remembered ever so plainly the day that he lost Elise. Jasper had not trusted him, he had not told him of the power he possessed. Zoeloft’s eyes became sharp and fierce and a determination swayed whatever good was left inside his soul to a place deep down in the darkest hole of his heart. The cold face attached to the shell of a man who kneeled on the ground looked up at the pale elf who towered over him.

“It shall be done.” Zoeloft bowed his head, the blue light disappeared, and its knew owner smiled the evil smile of success.