Chapter 1: Child Born of Woe
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"Syr-esh sul," whispered a woman, whose right hand was holding up a blade, suspending it right next to her heart.
The man who kneeled next to her crept closer to her body, lifting both hands, then covering her left hand in support.
He stared at her, eyes interlocked with her own, tears almost dropping.
"Veyth," the woman whispered.
But he kept staring for far too long. Lips hesitant. Words halted.
He moved his head, resting it on her shoulder, right in parallel with her face.
He breathed in loudly, as though trying with all his effort to take in her scent.
"Veyth," he whispered back, then used his hands to support her arms, inserting the blade straight into her heart.
Her eyes widened when it entered. Tears flowed endlessly down her cheeks.
And as for the man, the one who had supported her hands as she killed herself.
He was crying while stroking her hair, eyes closed as though her loss of breath was too taboo to be looked at.
He moved his hand, then held her head, pulling it closer and embracing the forehead with a kiss.
"WAAAAAHHHHH!"
The silence was interrupted by the endless cry of a baby, right in the corner of the cave. Its body was covered by a thick white cloth.
The man stood up, not even bothering to remove the dagger that was inserted into the woman's heart.
He didn't look back; he didn't glance at her now dead, lying corpse. He didn't stay to mourn like a puppy at the woman who seemed to be his loved one.
He only stood up, then walked to his crying child.
Picked him up. And then paused as he heard the woman's body react with unnatural sounds.
Shivering, then shaking. Until fading into golden dust.
The man didn't wait any longer.
He just left.
Leaving a darkened cave, which now housed nothing.
A cave left with the fading echoes of the child's retreating voice.
Voice retreating, leaving darkness.
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{3 hours later}
It was nighttime, and the wind blew west, disrupting the trees, uprooting some of their branches with its cold, uncommon blows.
The man was now standing on what seemed to be a mountain peak, his eyes directly fixed on the tower of a darkened building that seemed secluded from the rest.
Guards moved around the tower's grounds, their guns clashing against their knees, armour readied as though always prepared for any type of attack.
The man just stood there staring, with a baby resting on his arm.
The wind suddenly blew unnaturally, twisting the sand, distracting the armed guards for a second too long.
The man was gone.
And by the gate, lying right next to their observing figures.
A basket.
"Yo, John!" shouted one of the guards. "Shit, I think you wanna see this."
John moved toward him, rubbing his eyes from the effects of the passing dust.
"Stop with the nagging, man," he said, nearing. "That bitch will cut your paycheck if, Shit!"
Their faces looked dead straight at the baby that lay in the crate.
His jet-blue shining eyes. And a smile that, weirdly, had all fully grown teeth.
Beautiful, if they were to describe it.
But something about his face seemed oddly too inhuman.
"You think he's one of the freaks?" John asked, turning his eyes to the other.
The man raised his eyebrows, directing a glance at the child, as if John was stating the obvious.
"Fuck," John whispered, brushing the temple of his head. "I guess we are finally getting a bonus."
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The man's footsteps rang through the cavern walls.
Each one moved with an uneven pace.
His suit was clearly ruined by the rain.
Glasses, half broken. Eyes clearly swollen.
He was crying.
Yet no sound seeped from his lips. No noise of pain showed any sign or hint in his expression.
He remained unmoved, unshaken but wise.
Each step holding the wisdom of the ancient.
Stepping forward, right on the spot, his wife had died.
Dropping to the floor and grabbing the same dagger she had used to kill herself.
He breathed loudly, nostrils taking in as little air as they could.
He raised the dagger to his chest, fixing it right above the heart.
He hesitated, eyes widening in regret.
'It had to be done,' he thought, pushing the dagger forward. 'Na alth vyr es-el.'
He inserted it into his chest, feeling its blade piercing his heart with little to no effort.
"Veyth," he finally whispered, feeling his body turning to a corpse.
Then, he was dead.
And it took seconds before his body turned into golden dust, falling like ash onto the embers of his loved one.
A man who knew most about the earth, gone.
Dead.
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"They are dead?" said a witch, wearing a pointy hat, eyes fully widened. "The Immortals are dead," she said, panic evident in her voice.
"Sister!" Another witch slipped her head from the outside through the window. "The Crystal is getting so many calls, we are going to be rich…"
"Shut up!" the first witch replied, bolting up from the floor. "They do not seek business, you foolish old hag."
She ran outside, turning her eyes to the bright, floating stars.
"NOOO!" she said, taking off her hat and revealing her bald head. "This cannot be!" Her head shook violently. "It is not yet time… it is not yet time."
The second witch just stared at her, totally confused by her state.
"What's all this fuss about, you?" came the third, descending from the sky on a broom. "I can't even hear myself think with your fussing, you frog."
"The Immortals are dead!" the first witch shouted.
Then immediately, as if nurtured by her words, the second and the third turned their eyes to the stars.
"Dead?" said the second.
"Dead?" said the third.
"And all that remains is one," they all spoke in unison, eyes now turned pitch black as though they were speaking ancient prophecy. "Him unknown. Him whose monster. Him who's bound by blood and endless."
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Seated around a large round table on towering chairs, ten figures interchanged glares of distant worry.
"You all look terrible," one of the figures said, seated on what seemed to be the largest of the seats. "Well, it could be worse, seeing as all your ages exceed 300."
No one dared to object, no one dared to return the insult.
"The Immortals are dead," she said, noting some expressions of surprise from those seated around her. "And with their death goes the power that came with their magic, their gifts."
She nodded her head to one of the guards, who nodded back.
He walked toward the exit, indicating a sign for those who were outside to step in. And over a thousand men with guns marched inside.
The space of the building proved so large that it had enough room for all of them to be seen.
"The witches had a prophecy," the old woman said. "The Immortals have broken their tradition," she said, softly smiling. "They have ended themselves before it was time, and have given birth to not two but one seed."
The surrounding old members murmured to themselves, completely stunned by her words.
"This is the chance of a lifetime!" she said, and the guards stomped their feet in chant. "This is a chance for us to groom him!" They stomped their feet once again. "Because we all know," she softened her voice, "it's only a matter of time before age realizes it skipped us. And when that happens, you will all kiss your asses for dead."
~~~ [END]
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Join my PT for extra Chapters ~ p*tr-eon name is DUSK_IS_MEE
.Extra chapters available.
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