The room glowed in a golden hue that illuminated everything under candle lit chandeliers. The strum of each harp string echoed in the grand dining room– letting each note linger long enough to be digested and appreciated by the audience of one.
Cuthbert sat in his usual chair, eyes shut, holding a glass of wine barely touched as Elfeda's delicate hands guided him through a solo symphony of melodies that had no end or beginning. She bridged pieces together as if they were always one song– making sure to play pieces she knew Cuthbert appreciated the most.
From 'Angel's Wings Soar' to 'Righteous Fury' her fingers danced across her harp elegantly like the steps were her divine right to play– and his to listen.
She weaved two pieces into one, 'Hell awaits the Damned' with 'The Priestess Will'. Their notes mingled together as if they were always one piece.
The complexity of the performance moved Cuthbert to auditory euphoria– tears rolled down his eyes.
How he missed these nights.
"Isn't it lovely Cuthbert?" He opened his eyes to look at his beloved sitting on the far end of the room– and there she sat in a Sapphire hued wrap dress strumming away at her cross strung harp. Her petite figure was only magnified more by the maple wood instrument that loomed over her.
Her smile as intoxicating as ever.
"Pure rapture, Elfeda."
The music stopped. Her smile melted away.
"Then why don't you want to save me, my love?" She sat there unmoving as the corners of the room slowly dimmed into shadows– the candle's intensity as bright as when the night began.
Cuthbert trembled at the question. "Elfeda? W–what do you mean?" Her stoic glare struck right through him– tugging at his very soul.
A man materialized from the shadows and walked straight up to Elfeda.
"Yes Cuthbert, why don't you want to save thisbeautiful young lady?" Draped in the same void-black cloak shifting like they were stitched from moving shadows. He cupped her cheek, tracing its contour with a tenderness that made Cuthbert's stomach churn.
Cuthbert rushed to get up, dropping his wine over his lap in the process but found himself stuck in his chair– unable to get up. The wine stained his clothes and hands red as the wine glass shattered across the marble floor beneath his feet.
"Tsk tsk tsk. Why do you still fight me Cuthbert? I just want to help return your precious love back to you." He continued to glide his hands around the lifeless figure beside him. Letting his fingers comb through her blonde hair before letting it fall in place.
The cloaked figure turned his attention to Cuthbert. The harp began to strum once more behind the veil of darkness that sauntered towards the captured audience– 'Demiurge Creates the End'.
"You feel it too right? This place is inundated with magic!" He lifted his arms in celebration. "Everything out there is overflowing with pure essence. Unlike where you come from."
"I don't care– I won't let you do as you wish!" It was all Cuthbert could muster to say as his heart pounded in his throat.
"Oh Cuthbert, my sweet child. As if you have a choice. Gwhahaha–" His echoing from nowhere.
The cloaked figure lowered himself in front of Cuthbert– moving closer until his vision was completely engulfed in darkness and whispered sweet nothings only Cuthbert could hear.