Chapter 1: Endless Night(Part 1)
From the high heavens ascending far and wide, to the depths of the land far below, a world shrouding in misery and war exists. Blood painting the land below, relentlessly tarnishing it. Even so, even through enduring such strife, humans learn to take such misfortune, and turn it into something truly admirable.
Still, this matters little. It is on a fateful day that a being from the high heavens descends, and the world itself plunges into an eternal state of chaos. From the depths of the night, dark feathers descending, and from far below, someone pursuing. An endless clash it seems, both searching for what they believe is rightfully their own.
My other half, when will you cease this madness...?
The voice of the person echoing through the land, remaining unheard as they pursue a being of corruption. The cold wind of such a heartless night rushing through. Wings tainting in malevolence ever so high, the being unleashing their wrath upon the humans below. The land tearing apart from the unforgiving lightning, those of the dead rising from the depths of the land. Those of the undead suffering an agonizing demise, returning to the ground below the surface.
If only...no...there is no time for this...if there is any hope, I must reclaim what is rightfully mine...
The mysterious person looking upon the brutality, their grieving eyes resting upon the lifeless land. They turn away from the horrific scene, rushing through the night. It is hard to say exactly how much time passes between the event and the destination, but soon enough they arrive at a town. From the deepest of shadows, crimson eyes piercing through.
All of this...all of this happened...due to my selfish desires...
Thick crimson mist enveloping the town. From deep within the heavy fog, red, ravenous eyes lurking. Moving within the shadows, stalking their prey, truly fearsome monsters they are. Fiends roaming around the town, secluding themselves within the darkness. Rulers of the night they are, instilling fear into all those around them.
Many men gather within the room, their grim expressions clear upon them. Along the walls are crystal clear windows. Layering in front of the fine windows are statues of the gods. Odin, Thor, Loki, Freya, Norn, and so forth. The King, a proud and strong ruler looking upon the statues for a moment, his eyes clearly of uncertainty. He can only wonder if the gods themselves have forsaken the humans. The King slowly inhaling and exhaling, soon turning his attention back to the commander, holding his hands behind his back. The King looking upon the commander much more serious now.
“Come again?” the King questions.
Many revering him as Blood Bane due to his ferocity, a man holding a powerful title at one point. The King standing there, appearing in his forties, perhaps age is catching up to him. To such a valiant King, age is merely a number. From deep within him, a deep passion burning brighter than the sun itself. The commander looking upon the King, positioning his arms in a thinking posture. Distress clearly exhibiting from his eyes.
“Sire, as it stands now our forces will not last. Something is strange.”
A slight grin coming to the face of the King. Perhaps annoyance is the word to use. After all, the situation should be well under control. For things to come to such, has the world finally fallen to madness? The deeper the night is growing, the more dreadful it is becoming.
“You are the commander, are you not? Why is this situation not under control?” annoyance clearly depicting from the voice of the King.
The commander lowering his arms, slowly shaking his head from left to right. Taking a step forward, trying to report the situation as clearly as he can. Never before seeing something of such a severity.
“Sire, our men...they were...”
Try as he may, thinking back to the brutality, those events causing the commander to grow silent. The battlefield is a place to expect anything, but even now and then, the most reserve of soldiers cannot stomach the results. The King giving him a moment to gather his nerves, soon taking a step towards the commander.
“They were what? Speak,” the voice of the King seeming impatient.
The commander holding the side of his head, hanging it low. Thinking back to the horrible scene. In all reality, there will be no easy way to make such a report. Unable to erase the scent of burning flesh from his senses.
“They were reduced to charcoal in short...” he hesitantly reports.
Hearing of such news, the King’s eyes slightly widening. It appears the situation at hand is even more dire than he can ever imagine. For such an extreme level of damage. The King considering his options of what might even cause this to happen.
“But...for that to happen...someone would have to be burned at an extremely high degree. Are you certain there was no fire?” he questions, positioning his arms in a thinking posture.
The commander looking towards the King, slowly regaining his composure. Nodding his head from left to right. Assuring the King of already accounting for such a possibility. The eyes of the commander growing slightly more grim.
“No...just lightning...lightning from the heavens. This is no ordinary assault on us...it is as if the gods themselves are taking action against us,” the commander folds his arms, slightly looking down.
The knights standing in that room, glancing at each other. It is clear to them that the battle at hand is suicidal at best. If it is the gods they are going up against, then they stand no chance to defend themselves. Being mere mortals in the presence of deities.
“Let us take a step back for now. You are saying out along the border, no one can get in or out,” the King holding his hands behind his back, carefully thinking on the situation.
The commander confronting the King, presenting a map. There is no time to spare, not a single waking moment. The King immediately taking hold of the map, scanning the area which are potential hazards. It is not long until he comes to notice a critical point. Most fatalities occurring along the borderline. The King thinking for a moment, mapping out every possible solution, knowing well that his kingdom will not last without trade. This more than anything unnerving him. The King glancing at the commander, their grim expressions are upon the other. An idea coming to mind, perhaps it is not the gods work. If so, then they certainly do have a fighting chance.
“Are you certain this is not the work of Elvens? They are known to possess extreme levels of magic,” the King speaks with such eyes of certainty.
The commander positioning his arms in a thinking posture, reflecting upon his experience out in the battlefield. Even resorting to the communication between the Elvens for credibility. The commander slowly shaking his head from left to right, looking straight at the King.
“I am afraid so, no Elven could unleash such monstrosity. We even consulted with some of their elders, not even they can get out of this region,” the commander explains with slight distress in his tone.
Those words are some the King desperately wishes not to hear. Though, he knows better than that. To face reality, and the strifes it throws, all of this is a requirement of his position. The King turning towards the window, soon walking towards it. The commander as well as the knights looking on as the King gazes upon the velvet moon.
“This is no coincidence...the sky has been at an unrest for a month now...this is definitely war, but war against whom...?” he wonders as he looks to the statues of the gods.
The entrance to the throne room violently opening in that moment. Everyone taking notice, facing a knight as they rush in. Their posture clearly of distress. The King wondering what can be of such urgency.
“Sire! There has been a break in within the dungeon, our knights are being massacred by some monster!” the knight urgently warns.
A break in? Now of all times? It is appearing as if the very night itself has been set upon a curse. First no one can leave, then the mass reducing to nothing. Now an infiltration, the longer the night is dragging on, the worse the situation is appearing.
“Gather as many as you can and meet me down there,” a slight grin coming to the King’s face.
With no delay, the Knight rushing out the room, loudly closing the door. The area growing silent, the knights uncertain on what to make of this. Looking to their King for guidance in this time of turmoil. The King taking a moment to gather his nerves, turning towards the commander. It is clear both are slightly anxious. A curse within the night. No one can enter nor leave. To make things even worse, an intruder revealing their presence.
“This is no coincidence, let’s head down there immediately,” he urges.
“Right,” the commander agrees.