Chapter 1: Old man's hut.
I live in a harsh world. One where the slightest mistake can take your life without remorse. It is a world rife with wars, monsters, and magicks.
A world where gods walk amongst men, where men become gods, a world where even the divine can be prey.
This is, the forgotten realm; Tarsis. Also called, the god'sgrave.
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"Heron, care to run an errand for me?"
I look up from the book I was perusing to see Annabelle, our caretaker at the orphanage. She was standing by the entrance to our small kitchen, she's in her early twenties, with dark skin and fuzzy hair. Brown warm eyes peer at me from an oval face.
We live in a small orphanage, in the middle of a quiet little village called 'Herminway pass.' situated in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forests and river's.
I bookmark the page, and left the book on the tiny old table. The kitchen was in a side room not far from the mess area, which also doubles as our study.
Eleven adorable bodies litter the area, some playing with wooden toys and a few already asleep. My heart fills with joy when I look at the children around me, being the oldest at nine years old. I felt a strong desire to protect them.
We all call this little orphanage home.
Making my way to the kitchen with rapid, quick steps, Annabelle was chopping up vegetables in the cramped little kitchen, preparing dinner.
She looks over at me with a lopsided smile. Her brown eyes alight with affection. There's a wrapped bundle on the floor beside her. She nods to it and says. "Can you help me deliver this to old man Roy?"
I pull a face at the mention of the old geezer, she laughs. The sound light and melodious.
I nod. And she thanks me, then thrusts the bundle to me. "Don't take too long, matron Tess will kill me if you're late for dinner."
This time it's my turn to laugh. I imagine the old matron holding her cane above her head while yelling at Annabelle.
Matron Tess is the presiding authority over the orphanage, she's a nice enough woman. Strict. Old. Occasionally cranky, but she loves us, and that's enough.
I carry the bundle under my arm and trudge out via the backdoor within the kitchen, wondering what's inside the wrapped bundle. I can't very well take a peek without ripping open the entire thing. I resolve to ask the old man about it.
Herminway is a small village, situated within the deep confines of an old forest. Hunting game, fishing and farming sustains us.
The village elder is an old retired war veteran, with knowledge beyond this small encampment we call home. Withered and tired now, he guides us.
I decide to take a secret shortcut the children use to go play by the creek. It's a meandering old path, with tall grass growing over everything due to neglect. This path doesn't see much use anymore.
The path fork's into two roads, the one on the left leads to the creek, while the one on the right meanders to the outskirts of the village. Just shy of the hut old man Roy calls home.
I take a right and continue walking the twisted, thorny path. All the while, thinking about getting back home so I can go back to reading the book I left behind. It's a fantasy about magic, complete with a brave hero and an evil dragon.
Books were a scarce resource here. There's a small library at the center of the village, owned by the elder.
It was stocked with the small amounts of literature he procured before founding our small community.
Not many can read in the village, not many are interested in the literary arts.
Most people learn a craft, hunting, fishing and other essential skills we need to thrive in this world.
But I have always had a quick mind, the elder noticed me peeking at the library and took it upon himself to tutor me. Now I can read, write and know arithmetic sequences.
I make a mental note to stop by the library and pay the elder a visit. I'm sure he would appreciate it.
Nearing the end of the path, I duck under a small tree surrounded by shrubs and bushes. My mind turns to old man Roy, he's a weird old man for sure. I can't exactly put my finger on it but something about him just gives me the chill's.
He appeared out of nowhere a year back, doesn't really get along with most of the villagers but seems on friendly enough terms with the village elder. Word on the vine is; he's an old comrade of the elder, but none can confirm it. The elder will say nothing about it either.
But he allows him to stay and hunt in our land's. Old man Roy is without a doubt the best hunter in the village. A few young men approached him to teach them but he immediately turned them down. Mean old bugger!
I step tentatively Into an overgrown bush with thorns and thistles. I'm very close to my destination now, past this thorny scape is the old hunter's hut.
A scream cuts through the air, and I come to a stop. My heart in my throat, I stay very still, despite the thorns pricking into my skin. Leaving lines of small cuts that draws tiny rivulets of blood.
The scream was cut short violently.
Slowly, I inch forward. Doing my best not to make a racket. I could see the hut, it was kept in intentional disarray, odds and ends lying about everywhere haphazardly. I spot a mannequin carved from blackwood a little distance away, a huge iron pot near a spit.
There's dark stains splattered all over the place, from my vantage it looked like some dark liquid. It took a while longer to realize what it was; blood.
And a lot of it.
With that realization, comes visual clarity. I see bodies. Dead. Unmoving. Dismembered. Limbs and heads separated from their bodies. Hacked to pieces.
Suddenly my initial panic blossoms into a bone deep fear. My bladder feels heavy. My knees buckle, but I stay on my feet.
What could have happened?
I wanted nothing more than to turn back around and run home without looking back, but I find myself inching forward regardless.
There's a thunderous crash and the hut splinters apart, raining down fiery debris and setting the small clearing ablaze. Little fires ignite and began spreading with gusto.
Then I see it. The monster responsible for all this slaughter, It was bipedal. Covered in gore and blood from crown to sole, dragging the piles of corpses to the center of the clearing. It was covered in furs, caked in mud and dirt. And blood.
I stand there, transfixed, mouth open in a silent scream.
It let's out a groan and takes to a knee. That's when I realize what I was looking at. It was no monster. It is a man.
I recognize this man. Covered in blood so thoroughly he looks like he took a bath in pool full of it.
It was old man Roy.
I was running before I even knew it. My brain only caught up after I burst through the dense foliage I've been hiding in.
Dodging body parts and shattered items, I make my way towards the old man. He hears me coming, in one smoothe motion has his spear tip pointed at my throat. He might have skewered me if not the fact that I stopped just a few inches shy of pointy end of his weapon. Thank the Kra for my quick reflexes.
"Are you okay?" I force the words out. "You're covered in so much blood, old man. Are you okay?"
He doesn't say anything, doesn't move. We stare at each other, his eyes a complete black, irises hidden behind a curtain of solid black.
My fear returns with a vengeance.
He begins mumbling underneath his breath, I can't discern the words, but it sounds like he's having a conversation with someone. But we're alone here. Who could he possibly be talking to?
There's a soft click, my eyes snap to the ring resting on his chest, it was tied to a string. It was made from iron, with a coiling serpents head, The eyes of the snake were glowing a blood red. I wanted to run.
I take a step back. "Don't move." He croaks.
I stop. Overcome by terror. It claws at my insides, scratches at my mind. It's difficult to breathe, my vision began swimming, black creeping in at the edges.
I think I'm going to pass out.
Then in a swift lunge I could not possibly see, with barely a flick of his wrist, he runs me through with his spear. Right above my heart.
The blade finds zero resistance, my cloth a pitiful armor.
The pain comes. Slow at first, gently caressing. My legs finally gives out and I crumple to the ground, mud wet from the blood of all those slaughtered soaks my raiment.
My thoughts become sluggish, like their crawling through thick mud. I think of the children back at the orphanage, wondering if they'll miss me. There's so much I wanted to do, I never even got to finish the book I was reading...
Fear grips me, I didn't want to die.
I try to take a breath. Big mistake!
The pain explodes all at once and I feels like my very soul shatters into million pieces.
The pain is all overwhelming. My lungs collapse.
The blackness at the edges of my vision invade now. Rushing to cover everything in the colour of nothingness.
I die.
With my death comes sweet relief, from the burning pain in my chest. My final thoughts were lost in the darkness of my fading consciousness.
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I stare down at the body of the child I just executed. I wish I could say I felt guilt, but then I'd be lying. This world makes monsters of us all, those who would climb to the peak of power, has to pay the price in blood.
He's still breathing, tenacious little bugger. It'll be over soon.
I turn from my most recent victim, my eyes roaming the environment. Which looked like a cyclone just swept past.
"Quickly now. Before he breathes his last." A sinister voice urges. Even after being subjected to it for eleven years, It still sends a chill down my spine.
I look at the ghostly figment of a tiny black and silver asp hovering over the ring on my neck.
"Are you sure this one will do?" I ask, mumbling the words. I feel so tired. "We won't have time to look for another."
"He would do nicely." The serpent floats towards the dying boy. "He possesses a bloodline. I can feel it."
My blood runs cold. I look at the boy again, suddenly the guilt that was absent comes rushing in. If I do what the serpent wants, I'd be condemning this child to a fate worse than death. A clean death here would be a mercy.
The serpent slithers about on empty air, laughing to itself for his immense luck, unaware of my internal struggle. I wrestle with the shreds remaining of what I call my conscience. I've killed children before, in the name of duty, in anger I once extinguished an entire family. And even then I did not feel as horrible as I do now.
A gentle hand grasps mine. I look down to find another innocent face, staring up at me. Another child. My child. My little girl.
I kill the children of others without remorse, but thinking about someone hurting my little girl...
Am I a hypocrite for this?
She shifts her gaze towards the dying boy. She says nothing. She's not said anything for years. Not since her mother died.
My shoulders slump. Resigned, I take the serpents ring from it's string around my neck --- the eyes still glowing blood red.
I take a knee, with a single finger I touch the blood leaking from his wound and smear it on the ring.
A tremor goes through the atmosphere and all becomes still, the world was holding its breath. It was a pregnant moment, filled with violent anticipation. I was witnessing something straight from the pages of a twisted nightmare.
The serpent ring floats out of my palm, sliding onto the index finger of the boy's left hand. The iron silver serpent uncoils, wounding its way around the iron ring, then smoothing out. It's become a plain iron ring.
The ring has shrunken in size to fit snugly around the boys finger. It looks completely different now, like a plain band of iron. Gone are the embellishments familiar to me.
"May you be bound, eternal unrest awaits." I recite the words, my voice barely above a whisper as I condemn an innocent soul.
There was a sound like raging thunder. A gale kicks up debris and soil.
I stand there, looking upon the abomination I had just committed. The storm warring in me more violent than the one brewing outside.
How fitting --- I think to myself --- the disgraced son brings home nothing but shame. My father would say.
This is all my fault.
Tears does not become a man. I resolve myself, I will raise them right. To be better than I ever was.
Gently, I squeeze the tiny hands still pressed to my palms.
Without fail. I promise.