Threads of the Soul

Retreating back on trembling legs, Sirius' dimly glowing golden eyes darted back and forth between the recently returned hunting group. A part of him was hoping that one of them, any of them, might step in and stop this madness, but when he saw the looks of utter distain or amusement at his miserable situation it quickly became clear that was never going to happen.

He could feel his heart in his throat, as if it threatening to crawl it's way out and make a break for it just to save itself. Every set of eyes on him, from the animalistic and predatory stares of those who hated him to the pitiful looks he was receiving from the casual observers. Every single one of them made his skin crawl and his hair stand on end. Each second that passed by felt like he was tied to train tracks, being forced to listen to the clacking of trains wheels as it rapidly approached him.

His natural instincts urged him to run, hide and let someone else deal with the problem. But that was no longer an option. For once in his pitiful life he had no where to run. No rich parents to bail him out or give him a job, no subordinates to dump his workload onto. No where to physically run to and no one to dump onto the ground so the monster ate them instead.

He had always prescribed to the school of thought of 'I don't need to outrun the bear, I just need to outrun you.' But what use was that when you were the only one with the damn bear?

Not even his powers could save him anymore. He should be indestructible with these abilities, he should be worshipped like the god he truly is. With these powers, he should never have to get his hands dirty again and could simply burn away anything that displeased his eye. But now? Now he had drained himself of everything he had.

Many were under the impression that, because his eyes resembled suns, the energy to create his eyebeams came from their own sun. That he absorbed solar energy and simply pumped it out, the same way Astra did for electrical energy. This was wrong.

Others considered that it was simple ambient energy or that he didn't need anything at all to produce the beams. This was also wrong.

As a matter of fact the energy used to produce his optic beams came directly from his body. The same energy the body used to power itself, meaning his fat cells and so forth, would be converted into solar energy and then outputted. It was exactly this reason that, after putting everything into escaping the ghouls grasp, that he looked so starved and gaunt. He just barely had enough energy left to function and blast out maybe a few more times.

At this point the only thing he had left going for him was blind hope. Hope that the train he could feel rumbling ever closer was on a different set of tracks. Hope that he could somehow turn this around and put this horrendous situation into his favour. So instead of running, Sirius relied on his only other talent.

Talking bullshit.

Gritting his remaining teeth, since they were mostly scattered all over the floor at this point, Sirius wracked his weaselly mind in desperation for something to latch onto, some thread of truth to spin and twist into the perfect trap.

It was only when he saw the now headless and one handed ghoul rise to its feet, that he found that perfect thread. His bloodied, cracked and swollen lips spread into a devious, gap toothed grin before his expression melted into one of believable panic and sincerity. His skinny chicken legs trembling as he whirled around to face the crowd of worthless corpse collecting mortals before speaking with true hints of fear dripping from his quivering voice.

"Don't you see what he's doing? Don't you see what he is? Look at that beast, does it look human to you? Does it even look alive?"

He pointed a trembling finger towards the headless ghoul, who was simply standing there, Menacingly, as Corvus started to slowly saunter forwards and forcing Sirius to retreat further as he addressed the crowd.

"That thing is no man, no person. It is a corpse. And He is nothing but a vile necromancer! He has come to infect us, infect you, with his depraved magic. To slaughter you all and add you and your families to his army of the damned. Can't you see it?

He has already done it to my dear friend, who I held in my arms as he died. Yet there he stands, propped up by vile, dark magic and spouting lies to turn you all against me."

Murmurs began to spread their way through the crowd as the silver tongued devil wove his wretched web of lies. Doubt seeping into the minds of those who watched, unable to understand the truth of the situation without the true knowledge of what had happened.

Sirius turned back to the approaching Corvus, a shit eating grin plastered across his disfigured face as he prepared himself for the ensuing panic and rage from the crowd. A person may be smart, but people were dumb. A crowd like this was nothing more than a tinderbox. All he had to do was give them a little spark and they would fan the growing flames themselves with misinformation, speculation and doubt. It was all too easy.

When mister big-shot necromancer attacks him, he'd spin that too. Bring the crowd onto his side even more, use them as cannon fodder while he gets the real fighters from behind the wall, no doubt they would be out soon with all the commotion. Maybe he could even get the hunting party on his side too, but if not then he wouldn't mourn their loss. He'd just have to work harder to bring himself up to a king level in the eyes of these peasants and-

"What is his name?"

What? Sirius blinked a few times, his mind taking a second to fix itself from the sudden derailment of his train of thought from such an inane question. He glanced at Corvus, his utter confusion evident even through the blood, bruises and swollen features of his face. So the cloaked man didn't hesitate to speak again, his voice straining as he forced every word out.

"What is his name? Your 'dear friend' you say I corrupt. Twice you call him friend. You care so much, what is his name?"

The blood rushed out of Sirius' face once more, and not just because of the countless wounds that he had. Honestly it was surprising that he had any blood left in his face to drain. Beads of sweat carved their way through the crimson coating on his face before dripping from his chin.

He simply stood, utterly frozen, with his golden eyes widened as he wracked his brain for the answer that wouldn't come. His name? Why would he remember his name? He was a worm. A peasant. He was utterly worthless and beyond useless, even now he had to have someone else fight his battles for him.

Once again he felt all eyes on him, his skin crawling from the intense gazes. Gulping audibly, he forced a confident smile onto his lips as he spoke,

"Why it's... It's Scott. Why wouldn't I know his name?"

A deafening silence fell across the area once more, the observers waiting for conformation on if he was right. But no one needed to say a word, for the answer was plain as day at the simple sight of Cynthia placing a hand to her forehead and gently shaking her head in disappointment.

Before another wicked lie could escape Sirius' lips in a pathetic attempt at redemption, Corvus lunged forward and wrapped a gloved hand tight around his throat. His fingers hooking under Sirius' cracked jaw before the 'golden god' found himself being effortlessly lifted into the air by his throat.

"Wrong Answer."

Taking a single step forward, Corvus slammed Sirius' gaunt body into the ground, cracking the tarmac beneath them and knocking the air out of the weasels lungs. Keeping his hand around Sirius' throat, he immediately lifted him from the newly created pothole, spun around to build momentum before launching the gangly cretin like he was nothing more than a shotput.

Sirius flew through the air for a few moments, tumbling ass over tea kettle, before he finally hit the ground. Yet he didn't stop there, instead his momentum carried him, skimming him across the tarmac like a stone across a lake, until he slammed against the wall. Finally coming to a stop underneath the giant letter L.

"Nothing but lies. I am no necromancer. I need no corpses."

As Corvus spoke, everyone around him looked at the beaked figure with utter surprise and confusion. Not just Sirius or the observing crowd, but especially those who had been travelling with him all this time. All except for his one armed 'friend' and a particular slime girl.

As if he had all the time in the world, Corvus raised his hand before casually snapping his fingers. The sound echoed out, bouncing off the empty and ruined building around them, and sent shivers down the spine of the poor crowd of unpowered observers. They did not know why, but such a simple gesture overflowed with power, enough that they could feel it in their very souls.

At the same moment as the snap, like a puppet who's strings had been cut, the ghoul dropped to the ground as Seth cut the strings from this particular puppet. It had served its purpose. However, the sound of the body hitting the floor was not alone, as something else fell from much further above.

Resting between Sirius' legs, having fallen from above him, was a small white stone. As he frowned at the stone, trying to understand the enigma of its origins, another white pebble bounced off his head and clattered against the black tarmac.

Slowly raising his head, following the eery sound of stone grating against itself and cracking apart, Sirius gazed up towards the roof of the grand library. His attention focused on the square outcroppings that acted as podiums for intricately carved statues. Statues that were currently lifting their legs as they broke free from their podiums.