It was a ruined landscape he'd seen so many times before he'd lost count, one that he would remember forever despite only having experienced it for five years. It never changed, no matter what year it was in the present day; frozen back in those traumatic times back during the second Great War. Luc staggered through the blood soaked battlefield toward a destination he wished he could turn away from. His every step forward was a struggle, his boots being sucked down into the ground soaked in the blood of his comrades and enemies alike with the mud. The weight of the needless loss of life that they had all taken part in trying to suck him down into the muck. Sticky blood matted his chestnut coloured hair at one side of his head, running down into his eyes to sting to blur his vision from a wound that had healed but still bled. But he didn't need to see to navigate that terrain anymore .
His legs moved of their own accord, carrying him up a sloping hill that felt like a mountain. When he reached the crest of it, the putrid stench of rotting meat - rotting flesh, hit him hard like a vicious punch to the gut. Luc gagged at the assault to his olfactory sense and his stomach churned before he expelled its contents into the muck beside him, blood and bile splattering to mix with the other fluids of fallen soldiers. His trembling hands gripped tightly on his knees as he hunched over fighting to keep another wave of nausea from washing over him. The vampire did not want to look to the scene he knew would haunt him forever but he would...he always did...no matter how many times his mind screamed at him not to look.
Rusty brown eyes lifted to the valley on the other side of that hill as the sounds of the war faded behind him like he was entering a long tunnel. The echos of bombs exploding and wreaking their havoc, of zipping gunfire that ricocheted off objects too dense for their rounds to penetrate, of the terrified screams and agonized moans of young soldiers grievously wounded and dying, their whimpered pleas to save them, for their mothers to hold them falling on his deaf ears as he took in the gut wrenching sight.
Ash began to drift from the sky like a grey blizzard as his eyes took in the grotesque scene below. Mounds of bodies piled in a callous manner were strewn about the expanse of land, corralled by a high barbed wire fence and dotted with guard towers. From the towers and fence were despicable men in black uniform men hanging from nooses around their necks. Sadistic smirks and cruel smiles forever mocking him as he moved reluctantly through the gates and into the grounds. The piles of people were stripped of all clothing, of all belongings, of all dignity and left to rot in their shallow mass graves. Hundreds of them: men, women and children. Innocent men, women and children. These were not soldiers...these were needless casualties to a madman's grand vision, his 'final solution'.
No sound reached this desolate and macabre place now, not even that of his trudging feet through the ash that now covered everything in a thin blanket that was belched from those foul smoke stacks. When he reached to wipe the flakes from his face, it smeared on his fingers red rather than a grey soot colour. He stared at his hand covered in the sticky red mess before lifting his eyes again to the piles. Their dead eyes frozen open and staring at him as he walked by as if to say, you weren't here to save us. You were too late. Always too late. Never enough. The crushing weight of helplessness followed him with their gaze.
Occasionally their lifeless eyes would impossibly blink or their cracked lips would stretch open in a silent scream. No matter how he turned his head away, there was always another face to greet him with the same haunting and lifeless scrutiny.
There was only one way to achieve a brief reprieve from their stares and he squeezed his eyes shut to block them out. He reluctantly opened them again after a moment to settle the quickly rising fear to discover that the piles had grown in size.
The bodies were no longer nameless faces of those unfortunate souls that had died in the Camp but those throughout his personal life. Influential friends that had seen him through his course to the man he was today. His parents and siblings the first to add to the piles, as he had remembered them in his youth before he'd left on his journey north to yet another war so long ago. His friends, lovers and comrades during the years that ticked past heaped on top of them. Their limbs tangled and withered like all the others, their faces left pristine as if only in order for him to identify who they were without doubt. Luc shook his head, filled with a growing dread as they fell from seemingly nowhere to land with sickening heavy thuds onto the stacks. He bolted away from the ghastly mountain in an attempt to escape the ever growing mass of bodies, only to trip over something in his path of retreat.
When his gaze flicked down to see the cause, he discovered he hadn't just tripped over something; a hand had grabbed him, having jutted out from under one of the piles he'd been racing past.
The hand clutched and clawed at the fabric of his pants to haul the body it belonged to out of the mass of corpses. A face he'd come to know and call true friend despite their extreme differences all that time ago stared vacantly up at him. A friend who'd given him the gift of once again being able to walk in the sunlight. The young Shadowhunter crawled up Luc's legs as he lay prone from his tumble, too stunned to move as his dead friend crept ever further. To Luc's horror, his fallen friend only pulled free a lower torso. Entrails like thick fat bloody earthworms wriggled at the jagged stump where legs should have been. The Daylighter let out a strangled appalled cry and kicked away, terror filling his eyes as he scrambled to his feet and away.
His legs moved of their own accord, carrying him up a sloping hill that felt like a mountain. When he reached the crest of it, the putrid stench of rotting meat - rotting flesh, hit him hard like a vicious punch to the gut. Luc gagged at the assault to his olfactory sense and his stomach churned before he expelled its contents into the muck beside him, blood and bile splattering to mix with the other fluids of fallen soldiers. His trembling hands gripped tightly on his knees as he hunched over fighting to keep another wave of nausea from washing over him. The vampire did not want to look to the scene he knew would haunt him forever but he would...he always did...no matter how many times his mind screamed at him not to look.
Rusty brown eyes lifted to the valley on the other side of that hill as the sounds of the war faded behind him like he was entering a long tunnel. The echos of bombs exploding and wreaking their havoc, of zipping gunfire that ricocheted off objects too dense for their rounds to penetrate, of the terrified screams and agonized moans of young soldiers grievously wounded and dying, their whimpered pleas to save them, for their mothers to hold them falling on his deaf ears as he took in the gut wrenching sight.
Ash began to drift from the sky like a grey blizzard as his eyes took in the grotesque scene below. Mounds of bodies piled in a callous manner were strewn about the expanse of land, corralled by a high barbed wire fence and dotted with guard towers. From the towers and fence were despicable men in black uniform men hanging from nooses around their necks. Sadistic smirks and cruel smiles forever mocking him as he moved reluctantly through the gates and into the grounds. The piles of people were stripped of all clothing, of all belongings, of all dignity and left to rot in their shallow mass graves. Hundreds of them: men, women and children. Innocent men, women and children. These were not soldiers...these were needless casualties to a madman's grand vision, his 'final solution'.
No sound reached this desolate and macabre place now, not even that of his trudging feet through the ash that now covered everything in a thin blanket that was belched from those foul smoke stacks. When he reached to wipe the flakes from his face, it smeared on his fingers red rather than a grey soot colour. He stared at his hand covered in the sticky red mess before lifting his eyes again to the piles. Their dead eyes frozen open and staring at him as he walked by as if to say, you weren't here to save us. You were too late. Always too late. Never enough. The crushing weight of helplessness followed him with their gaze.
Occasionally their lifeless eyes would impossibly blink or their cracked lips would stretch open in a silent scream. No matter how he turned his head away, there was always another face to greet him with the same haunting and lifeless scrutiny.
There was only one way to achieve a brief reprieve from their stares and he squeezed his eyes shut to block them out. He reluctantly opened them again after a moment to settle the quickly rising fear to discover that the piles had grown in size.
The bodies were no longer nameless faces of those unfortunate souls that had died in the Camp but those throughout his personal life. Influential friends that had seen him through his course to the man he was today. His parents and siblings the first to add to the piles, as he had remembered them in his youth before he'd left on his journey north to yet another war so long ago. His friends, lovers and comrades during the years that ticked past heaped on top of them. Their limbs tangled and withered like all the others, their faces left pristine as if only in order for him to identify who they were without doubt. Luc shook his head, filled with a growing dread as they fell from seemingly nowhere to land with sickening heavy thuds onto the stacks. He bolted away from the ghastly mountain in an attempt to escape the ever growing mass of bodies, only to trip over something in his path of retreat.
When his gaze flicked down to see the cause, he discovered he hadn't just tripped over something; a hand had grabbed him, having jutted out from under one of the piles he'd been racing past.
The hand clutched and clawed at the fabric of his pants to haul the body it belonged to out of the mass of corpses. A face he'd come to know and call true friend despite their extreme differences all that time ago stared vacantly up at him. A friend who'd given him the gift of once again being able to walk in the sunlight. The young Shadowhunter crawled up Luc's legs as he lay prone from his tumble, too stunned to move as his dead friend crept ever further. To Luc's horror, his fallen friend only pulled free a lower torso. Entrails like thick fat bloody earthworms wriggled at the jagged stump where legs should have been. The Daylighter let out a strangled appalled cry and kicked away, terror filling his eyes as he scrambled to his feet and away.