Immortals: Awakening

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Chapter One


Immortals:
Awakening

Chapter One

"The Zealots of Zac'ra born in battle bathed in blood."

The time had come. Myths and legends would once again walk among the mortal world. Echoes of the past danced among the frozen breath of winter, shadows of life drifted between the forgotten pathways of humanity. Storms born over the ocean cities in the south broke out in a rage.
Meadows of gold and purple helped hide the memories of a place neglected by mankind, lightning illuminated that memory, it's heartbeat was laid bare for all to witness. Rain fell in waves hoping to wash away the taint such a place had upon the Five Kingdoms.
Voilky, a place unknown to most, lay on the borders of two kingdoms, the rulers of both nations had no interest in the fabled place, those that did only remembered it's darkest hour, its bloody history would soon be revisited.
Servants of death had travelled across the vast deserts in the east, over the forest kingdom of Fallur. All in search of a rumoured War Hero, who lived among the forgotten souls that called Voilky home. 

Echoes of silence stunned the sky into submission, allowing a few moments of clarity. Khadim, as many of faith, knew them to be. Were nothing more than an omen of death. Rumours of the god's anger at mankind's weakness, that humanity had forgotten the lessons of blood and sacrifice. The rumours where true. The wars of the mortal world had created Champions of battle; now, they were nothing more than a bittersweet relic in a fading age.
A few zealots held onto the teachings of the ancient world. The storm had recovered its fury; rain masked the scent of all those below, The Ravens took flight once again, following the River Aveus as it twisted around the fort and back into the forest.
Aveus's path was of little interest to them for they had found new prey, figures of fire danced upon the backdrop of darkness, as the Khadim gained there first sight of mankind. Black hair broke out in all directions as it battled against the rain, crystal blue eyes watched the dancers with childish interest. Rings of smoke floated above the fire, before vanishing within the storm. The boy barely moved as lightening burst above him, all around was illuminated. The threat of the unknown smiled before returning to the shadows.
Deep within the forest, a hunter of men slipped between the silhouette of the storm, rings of smoke gave his target away. The rain hiding his tracks without question, even those whispered to live within the forest had no chance of discovering him.
Garlark study his prey, he had gotten closer than he had hoped, his fingers worked with practised ease, withdrawing an arrow from its sheath. Water ran from its tip, running his eye across the shaft made sure that it had not become warped. Bringing the bow to aim kept an eye on the trees that swayed around him. Reality faded away as he became focused upon his prey. The silence that hinted of the danger surrounding them went by unnoticed. The arrow's flight was true, striking his victim with ease. A cry confirmed the kill as the two remaining Khadim took flight.
The young boy within the makeshift camp remained unaffected by the events, his gaze still upon the dancers of fire that faded in and out of the forest. Garlark remained in the darkness, questions that had long haunted him returning, Pulling at the arrow in the dead raven. Stared into the camp, his son had not even noticed him. Drawing another arrow took a step closer, the crackling of leaves was masked by thunder as it demanded to be heard. The arrow struck a rabbit that had attempted to get closer to the warmth of the fire.
Reaching down Garlark tore the arrow from the raven's body, a small amount of blood poured out of the wound. Giving the arrow a gentle wipe stepped into the light. "Please son." Pulling the quiver of arrows from his back, laid them close to the fire. His eyes kept glancing towards his son, hoping for a response. He knew it was unlikely.
Sitting down, Garlark rested the bow across his lap; he worked on removing the bowstring. As the warmth spread into his feet, Garlark stretched out the bow cord before placing it into a small pocket sewn onto the quiver. Two other wires where inside safe from the rain.
Time passed in silence between the two, as they watched the fire struggle against the elements. The wind whipped around them, whistling alongside the thunder as they clashed in a display of dominance. Lightning forked across the darkness, making sure it was not forgotten.
"Navaa... son please." Garlark had caught sight of the Ravens return or as some called them Khadim. The bow was strung and ready to be fired, within a second, the focus of the kill slowly taken hold. Lightning broke giving Garlark a moment clarity of his surroundings. There it was the demons of war, a forgotten enemy. The demonic eyes of perfect purple that had scared thousands glared at him. The ancient enemy had once again returned. 
Questions of faith where being put to the test, a choice had been made years before, was now being questioned. Drawing the bow felt his fingers stiffen in response to the answer. "I can't, please." The Khadim circled above eager to witness mankind's failings. The storms eye was upon the camp.
The bow fell free of Garlarks hands; there was no bounce from the weapon only a deafening silence. Tears attempted to escape from his eyes, were held back by the past. "DO IT." Glaring at the creature that he feared. The Namora's frame was that of a mountain compared to the pair within the camp. The beast still lived. Crumbling to his knee's Garlark knew he could not win against the damned abomination again. Closing his eyes waited for death.
The Khadim had not travelled from their master's home to collect a hunter of men. There was a far more significant prize. The rain started once again as the eye of the storm passed across the camp, thunder echoed across the forest, lightning danced above, Garlark could do nothing apart from stare into the woods. The creatures he feared was gone; even the Khadim had left. He was alone with his son. Allowing the rain to pool in his hands rubbed it against his face. The past was trying to return for that Garlark was certain. Taking a deep breath, Garlark stood, his heart slowed as he study his surroundings all traces of the Namora where gone. Leaning down, picked up the bow his fingers checking for damage.



Dean

#93 in Fantasy
#19 in Dark fantasy

Story about: family, epic fantasy, revenge

Edited: 13.08.2019

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