The Feathered Antique

The desire to live, is it evil? Choosing between your life and another's may seem a bit bleak when someone imagines it, but when it is stripped down to the bone and suddenly two people are pitched against each other: the true selfishness of the human race is shown within seconds.

The Feathered Antique

The room’s darkness continues to fight the flickering candle flames. Between each lit pedestal, stand a dozen masked men in black coats lining up in pairs on each side of a long staircase. At the bottom of the flight of steps something begins to change.

The men turn and face the change in atmosphere as strong winds begin to whistle and purr. The flames hanging on frantically to the candle’s wick, like a man holding onto a tree during a hurricane. Along with a cold chill in the air, the wind begins to bring a storm of tumbling black feathers from out of the darkness and into the centre of the candlelight. They stop for a second and then begin to swirl into a feathery tornado, rising high and higher and becoming more rapid and violent. The sound becoming deafening as the feathers collide and shriek inside the vortex, until suddenly silence and stillness return to the room and the candlelight returns to its previous flickering battle with darkness.

The feathers now softly fall to the ground to reveal a new hooded figure with a presence to make the men slightly bow. The newly emerged man, named Prair, walks towards the stairs and waits at the bottom, brushing off a few stray feathers that cling to his black hooded jumper and jeans.

The masked men turn and bend knees as the room is flooded with light from the top of the staircase, showing more loyalty and respect with their bows then the last time. The hooded man at the bottom of the flight is forced to shade his eyes with his hand as the elegant steps of a beautiful young woman begin to descend to the floor. Each step is slow and paced, as if in sync with a clock.

Her white dress and high heels become visible as Prair’s eyes adjust to the light. After the dress comes her delicate marble neck and chin, then her blood red lips, her petite nose, but it’s the Sapphire eyes, hiding behind the strains of pure white hair, that Prair locks onto as the women descends down the flight.

She reaches the bottom and stands a foot away from Prair, staring at him in curiosity. She brushes a few strains of snow of her face and tucks the locks behind her ears. The hair moves to reveal a silver heart-shaped locket hanging from her neck.

“Is Matthew dead?” The woman asks plainly, scanning Prair’s clothing with her eyes.

“He is no longer a threat to you Sister,” Prair nods.

“What have I told you,” the woman snaps and bears her teeth at him, “it is already disgusting being your sister, I have no need to be reminded.” Prair lowers his head and diverts his eyes.

“My apologies, Sin.” He clenches his hand.

“Quit apologising, I don’t need you to look weaker then you are.” Sin begins to walk around him, “Honestly, what kind of man are you? Apologising, is that what you’ve become? I remember when you made our family proud,” Sin pauses as she flicks a black feather off her chest, “when you made our father proud. Now you’re just pathetic.” Sin turns her back and begins to walk away.

“Of course,” Prair agrees with his head still low, but this time hiding a smirk, “But,”

Sin stops, her foot perched on the first step of the flight. She turns around and looks at him.

“But?” She lifts a brow, waiting to hear the last of Prair’s sentence. Prair begins to chuckle to himself. Sin tightens her lips and walks back to Prair who hasn’t explained what is humorous to him. She strikes him with an open hand and Prair stops his crazy behaviour.

“But,” Prair continues, “I will not be the fool here.”

Prair holds something up, something that turn Sin’s Sapphires pale. She goes to snatch it, but receives something unexpected. The sound of metal slicing silk, then flesh, fills Sin’s stomach to ears. She gasps and falls to the ground, crawling away from her brother with a red trail being painted behind her.

“Help me you fools!” Sin calls to the men on the staircase, none move. Prair’s laughter fills the room as his sister reaches the first step of the flight. Prair stands over her as she rolls onto her back in defeat, her white dress becomes sticky and red. She coughs blood onto herself as Prair reveals his curved black sword. He dangles his sister’s locket above her. She reaches for it with all her strength.

“Give it back, this isn’t funny,” Sin gargles on her own fluids. Prair loses his smiles and holds his blade at her throat,

“Give me your sword,” Prair orders, “And I’ll give you back your soul.”

Sin falls silent as she stares at him. Blood expands across the floor around Sin’s body. She reaches into her chest, her hand sliding through her skin like a ghost. With a quick tug, a sword, as clear and pure as diamonds, is retrieved by sin from within herself. It is almost clear as crystal with a frost-like cloud blurring up the blade’s transparency. Unlike Prair’s, the sword is straight and broad, almost a dagger in length when compared to his own sinister blade.

She holds it up, handle first. Prair snatches it and pockets the locket.

“You said you’d give it back,” Sin murmurs, tired and fading away.
Prair scoffs at her, “I never gave you my word.” He holds both swords in his hands and smiles, swings them around and feels the weight and character of Sin’s blade.

“Turrust will have your head,” Sin sneers with a bloody smile. Prair stops and looks down at his dying little sister. He holds up both blades, Sin’s pink teeth disappear. With a heavy plunge the swords enter Sin’s chest and pin her corpse to the ground. She gasp, starring right into her brothers eyes, he returns the stare more fiercely.

“Turrust has no power over me now.” Prair yells and rips the swords free, Prair’s roar re awakens the drifting feathers as they stampede silently towards Prair. They crawl up his back and begin to form wings, one big pair on his on his shoulders, a smaller two just below them. The wings wrap around him like clothing.

“PRAIR!” a voice shakes the ground below Prair’s feet as a flash of light blinds the room. A man in white, holds Sin in sadness. He cradles her, kissing the top of her head. Their white hair and clothes matching along with their eyes. The man stands up, a sword forming out of nothing appears in his hands. It has the shape of Prair’s blade but purity of Sin’s, the same frosty blade.

“Turrust,” Prair smirks, “You’re home early,”

“What have you done, brother, have you gone mad,” Turrust shouts, “What has happened to you!”

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door in a room with none. Turrust looks around but Prair doesn’t. A red door stands in between the brothers. Turrust trying to remember when it appeared. It stands with no help or hinges as a second knock echoes.

“What trickery is this?” Turrust sneers at Prair. Prair looks almost depressed as he turns his head to the door.

“Come in Matthew,” he answers. The doorknob twists and opens the appearing door. As if stepping out from a different world, a boy barely hitting his teens steps out. He’s glasses are so magnified he’s eyes look like bright green tennis balls with pupils at the centre. He’s hair is well groomed back, his fashion compiles of a black suit and tie with a white undershirt. His shoes are as black as oil. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

(Please write cupcakes in your comment/critique/review so I know you read the chapter and did not skim the first paragraphs. If you do not write cupcakes then your comment is invalid. Thank you and sorry for the pause in the story. ^^ Enjoy the rest!)

“How dare you enter our sanctum,” Turrust bursts, “Matthew,”

The boy looks at Turrust with the same semi-board expression as he always has.

“I did knock,” Matthew states.

“This child has freed me, Turrust, Sin’s has no power over us anymore.” Prair explains.

Turrust looks at the two in front of him in astonishment, “He has brainwashed you, Sin is our sister.”

The boy tilts his head, “Brainwashing? That is you explanation for Prair’s actions?”

“I killed Sin for my reasons, and brought Matthew here on my own.” Prair exclaims.

Turrust shakes his head and charges at Matthew. The boy, with the cigarette still in his mouth, ducks, weaves, hops, and evades every blow Turrust tries to land. Turrust becomes more aggravated with each miss, more ruthless with each second, bloodthirsty with each swing. Turrust is stopped abruptly mid-swing. He looks to see a gold wrapped around his arms and legs. Matthew walks up to Turrust, flicking him on the nose.

“One, nil,” He announces as Turrust shakes frantically to get free, pulling and tugging, roaring and yelling, he falls to his knees in exhaustion.

“The more you struggle, the more it’s drains your power,” Matthew explains, “As much as I’d like to kill, Prair has given me the option to let you live.”

The red door returns this time right behind Prair who stood watching the whole time.

“We’re leaving,” Matthew tells Prair who nods and opens the door, waiting for Matthew to leave first. When the boy is gone and only the brothers are left in the room, Prair opens his mouth.

“We will kill each other, brother, I promise you’ll have your revenge, so do not fall to despair before you take my life.” Prair leaves and the room falls to darkness.