Valinthras Herondale Snakewrithe
Disclaimer: Graphic content. Do not read this if you are weak-stomached!
It was a cold night of the new year. Mist covered the grass of the ever-flourishing
forest of Elwynn, the concentrated stronghold of human civilization. Along the banks of
Stonecairn Lake, a couple, a man and a woman, share intimate experiences with each other
under the bright light of the White Lady. They held hands. They pecked each other on the
cheek ever so tenderly, the action of brushing one's lips softly over the smooth skin
of their lover. The lake was still. It seemed as if time had stopped just for them. Even
the murloc dared not bother with the moment the two shared.
Across the body of water, creatures began to stir. Owls screeched as they flew away from
the source. Does fled with their fawn. Even the murloc dived beneath the water, hoping
to conceal themselves from whatever was threatening them. The couple, now alerted,
turned their heads. Something was coming closer. They could see ripples on the dark
water as the object crossed it, floating almost ghostlike. The woman gasped, and
immediately her lover pulled her to his broad chest, glaring confoundedly at the object.
As the object neared, they could see it clearer. It was a single cello; a cello made of
black wood. It was rotted. It was twisted and thorned, though many roses bled their
crimson blood through cracks in the wood. A stylus formed. It was pale. Its white ivory
glistened in the moonlight. It slid across the bundled strings, producing screeching,
haunting notes.
The couple stared in awe as the instrument glided across the water until it neared just
mere feet of them. They were stunned and unsure of what to do about the cello as it
played its morose music, much like that of a requiem. At last, the man drew a
woodcutter's axe from the bag he had packed for the trip, and proceeded to swing it at
the phantom instrument, but the axe passed through leaving it unharmed.
"What is this sorcery? By the Light!" the man swore. Just as the words left his
lips, a figure appeared before them. It was black, almost a silouette in the night as it
held the instrument before them. Yellow eyes flashed open sharply, the left one dilating
in a beastial manner as it set itself upon the couple. The woman screamed at the top of
her lungs, terrified by such a sight. The man's body became rigid as he held the axe in
one hand and his fist in the other, ready to fight whatever they had just encountered.
"Your time has come..." the Shadow echoed, its voice almost otherworldly. Clawed
tendrils shot from the figure, ripping into the flesh of the man and woman. Each cried
out in agony as each tendril dug deeper and deeper into their skin until it was ripped
from each breast. More tendrils formed, ripping apart the ribcages. By this point the
humans were dead, the paint of their love dying the ground where they stood. The tendrils
pulled out bone after bone with sickening cracks of sound. The events beforehand left the
faces of the humans frozen in horror.
At last, the tendrils retracted. The Shadow floated towards the crumpled heap of flesh,
and reached into each ripped-up cavity. From there, it produced two hearts, still slightly
beating, and with a motion it slurped them down its throat with satisfied grunts.
The voice spoke again, this time to the corpses.
"Where is your Love now?"
