Hourglass

 

some author notes: this is a very very old peice of work i did. It is also incomplete as well hence why it is so short!

    The room was dark with only the natural light from the moon shining in. On one side of the room sat two thrones, both elegant. Thorns woven into one of the silver cushioned chairs, while the other had wilted vines woven into the frame. The once beautiful vines had wilted and the flowers no longer bloomed. On the opposite side of the room sat two large wooden doors. Once they had great carvings unlaid into them, but now they lay in ruin, splintered to bits. 

    The room was barren. A lone figure sat in the throne of thorns. Tapping their claws on the metal armrest. They waited. Waiting for a challenger, or just someone to walk into the room.
    At one point the room had been filled with warmth and light. The candles along the walls would be constantly lit, the sun would rise. The room would be filled with people, gathering around, making there way up and down the intricate hallways, rushing up and down the stairs. Everything was now dark and shades of blue. The sun did not rise here any longer. 

    Looking up from her throne of thorns, the figure made her way to the main hall. It was littered with an abundance of bodies. Her fellow soldiers. A few sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. If her memory served her right this room had been kept quite clean, the statues often dusted, carpets regularly brushed. Now the statues chipped and broken, and the carpet stained a deep red. 
    This had to be done.

    She once cared greatly for these people, they were still her people after all even in death. She hung her head low and gave thanks to the moon for the sacrifices her people made today. After all, if it wasn’t for them they wouldn’t have captured the Temple of the Sun.

    Taking a glance around the main hall once more, she took note of the last still standing statue. She made sure that this one would stay standing. The textured marbled figures stood proudly while holding onto each other. One was the Sun, smooth and agile in appearance and gave off a tender look toward the other figure. On the opposite side reared upwards facing down to the Sun was the Night. Her disfigured face showed an expression of pure hate and rage, her body cut at many angles. 

    This was the statue she hated the most.