A
AeonicBloodline
Guest
Kin-Slayer
Prologue: Visions of the Past
‘I have watch Albion’s ‘Saviour’ all his life.
‘Eialai is the name that was given to him at birth, a name, which in the tongue of the Old Kingdom, means ‘Aspiring Power’. The name has power, and meaning, and he was always told it could be one that led to greatness, good or ill. This name his mother and father, and his sister called him. He carried it all throughout his early life. But unknown to him, darkness followed his family, a darkness that would consume him and all he loved.
‘A raid tore his life apart, led by a Masked Demon and his bandits. They slaughtered and burned everything he knew, fires burned that scarred him and reduced his life to ash. In this moment, a seed of darkness was planted in him, a seed that would sprout into the most terrifying creature the land ever saw.
‘A traitor saved him, as it were, thought this was unknown at the time, a traitor he would later kill. The traitor trained him, brought him up, raised him and taught him secrets that the Guild would not. If the Guildmaster had learned of these things, the boy may not have had a life at the Guild any longer. But it truly didn’t matter.
‘He left the Guild and took names, different ones in different places. He studied and mastered the runes, tutored under dark users of the Will, and in time learned the rituals of the dead. In the forests of Witchwood, he was given the title of the Man of the Shadows, and his true name was forgotten.
‘His true name is known only to him and those he trust, which are few and dwindling.
‘Two titles came later, ones that showed the truth of his personality. One was Saviour, a title not strongly or widely used. The other is Kin-Slayer, one that is whispered and known everywhere.
‘The Sword that now burns against his back is the cause of this name. It is a prize and a burden, a medal and a mark. He faced the Jack of Blades, the Masked Demon who took his life, defeated him, and claimed the Sword. At the time, it was all that mattered, all that ever mattered. At the time, it was all he had. It was seductive, the lure of the Sword, bringing a fierce desire with him to possess it no matter what the consequence. He killed his sister, the Blind Seeress, to achieve his desire.
‘‘Blood begets blood, little brother,’ she had said. ‘The Sword was forged of Archon’s bloodline; to claim it you must first claim my life…’
‘He heard nothing else, the Sword’s lure and power burning through him. The Sword thirsted, as it thirsted long ago, and he fulfilled its hunger. Had she eyes, the look in them would have been horror, I think. He never remembered striking her till later, when the nightmares came, never remembered the connection of the Sword to her jugular, the sickening crunch and snap, her blood pouring from her severed arteries and pooling at his feet. The Sword drank its fill and proclaimed him master.
‘He now had his Power; his rightful claim to Archon’s cold throne, he could have brought the world to its knees. I do not know what happened, but instead he left, chased and haunted by the haze and nightmares of guilt and grief, driven by the thirst of the Sword. Kin-Slayer, he was called, persecuted and shunned, his sin never to be forgotten.
‘I watched Teresa’s life too, as I have watched all of Archon’s heirs, and know she touched many people during her travels. Everyone soon learned of her murderer, and the Kin-Slayer became hunted, and the Sword cut them all down, its thirst unquenchable.
‘The Sword claimed hundreds upon hundreds of lives, and soon the roles of master and tool were reversed. Eialai became the Sword’s puppet, broken on its will. A year passed, and soon the echoes of a scourge from the North called him back. The broken boy, now a broken man, yearned for his homeland, for his family. On a stormy night, he returned to the shores of Albion, broken and alone, and death was left in his wake.
‘He did not return to the Guild, instead disappearing into the shadows, as he was known to do. Hope for the Saviour of Albion to return soon dwindled and fell into darkness and despair. The scourge of the North brought ruin to Albion, the Heroes of the Guild driven back to the foundations of the Guild itself. Hope was lost, until he returned, out of the shadows of Darkwood he came, driving the hordes back. The Sword held no sway over his mind or heart any longer, clarity and will restored.
‘His quest renewed, he collected the Fire Heart and took the dead ship to the Wastes from which the scourge had come. He connected the Northern provinces with the mainland again, opening the culture secluded there. The Wastes held many secrets for him to discover, the Shrine of the Archon, the Necropolis, but far more importantly, the Oracle.
‘Collecting the runes from the lost ones of the dead city, he learned many things from the speaking stone. Among many, he learned of the return of the Masked Demon. Gathering the necessary souls, he opened the Bronze Gate and battled the Jack of Blades for the last time. He destroyed the mask that anchored Jack to this world, and returned to Albion. For a time, he was celebrated as a Hero again, the Saviour of Albion remembered for the time. But the people feared him still, hated him. The stain of his sister’s blood could not be washed away.
‘It has hardened his heart, this life. He has no one to love, or anyone to love him His only refuge…is himself. There is a darkness growing in Albion, the shadows stirring once again, and I see him at the center of it all. Is he our Saviour, or our doom? We shall have to see…’
Prologue: Visions of the Past
‘I have watch Albion’s ‘Saviour’ all his life.
‘Eialai is the name that was given to him at birth, a name, which in the tongue of the Old Kingdom, means ‘Aspiring Power’. The name has power, and meaning, and he was always told it could be one that led to greatness, good or ill. This name his mother and father, and his sister called him. He carried it all throughout his early life. But unknown to him, darkness followed his family, a darkness that would consume him and all he loved.
‘A raid tore his life apart, led by a Masked Demon and his bandits. They slaughtered and burned everything he knew, fires burned that scarred him and reduced his life to ash. In this moment, a seed of darkness was planted in him, a seed that would sprout into the most terrifying creature the land ever saw.
‘A traitor saved him, as it were, thought this was unknown at the time, a traitor he would later kill. The traitor trained him, brought him up, raised him and taught him secrets that the Guild would not. If the Guildmaster had learned of these things, the boy may not have had a life at the Guild any longer. But it truly didn’t matter.
‘He left the Guild and took names, different ones in different places. He studied and mastered the runes, tutored under dark users of the Will, and in time learned the rituals of the dead. In the forests of Witchwood, he was given the title of the Man of the Shadows, and his true name was forgotten.
‘His true name is known only to him and those he trust, which are few and dwindling.
‘Two titles came later, ones that showed the truth of his personality. One was Saviour, a title not strongly or widely used. The other is Kin-Slayer, one that is whispered and known everywhere.
‘The Sword that now burns against his back is the cause of this name. It is a prize and a burden, a medal and a mark. He faced the Jack of Blades, the Masked Demon who took his life, defeated him, and claimed the Sword. At the time, it was all that mattered, all that ever mattered. At the time, it was all he had. It was seductive, the lure of the Sword, bringing a fierce desire with him to possess it no matter what the consequence. He killed his sister, the Blind Seeress, to achieve his desire.
‘‘Blood begets blood, little brother,’ she had said. ‘The Sword was forged of Archon’s bloodline; to claim it you must first claim my life…’
‘He heard nothing else, the Sword’s lure and power burning through him. The Sword thirsted, as it thirsted long ago, and he fulfilled its hunger. Had she eyes, the look in them would have been horror, I think. He never remembered striking her till later, when the nightmares came, never remembered the connection of the Sword to her jugular, the sickening crunch and snap, her blood pouring from her severed arteries and pooling at his feet. The Sword drank its fill and proclaimed him master.
‘He now had his Power; his rightful claim to Archon’s cold throne, he could have brought the world to its knees. I do not know what happened, but instead he left, chased and haunted by the haze and nightmares of guilt and grief, driven by the thirst of the Sword. Kin-Slayer, he was called, persecuted and shunned, his sin never to be forgotten.
‘I watched Teresa’s life too, as I have watched all of Archon’s heirs, and know she touched many people during her travels. Everyone soon learned of her murderer, and the Kin-Slayer became hunted, and the Sword cut them all down, its thirst unquenchable.
‘The Sword claimed hundreds upon hundreds of lives, and soon the roles of master and tool were reversed. Eialai became the Sword’s puppet, broken on its will. A year passed, and soon the echoes of a scourge from the North called him back. The broken boy, now a broken man, yearned for his homeland, for his family. On a stormy night, he returned to the shores of Albion, broken and alone, and death was left in his wake.
‘He did not return to the Guild, instead disappearing into the shadows, as he was known to do. Hope for the Saviour of Albion to return soon dwindled and fell into darkness and despair. The scourge of the North brought ruin to Albion, the Heroes of the Guild driven back to the foundations of the Guild itself. Hope was lost, until he returned, out of the shadows of Darkwood he came, driving the hordes back. The Sword held no sway over his mind or heart any longer, clarity and will restored.
‘His quest renewed, he collected the Fire Heart and took the dead ship to the Wastes from which the scourge had come. He connected the Northern provinces with the mainland again, opening the culture secluded there. The Wastes held many secrets for him to discover, the Shrine of the Archon, the Necropolis, but far more importantly, the Oracle.
‘Collecting the runes from the lost ones of the dead city, he learned many things from the speaking stone. Among many, he learned of the return of the Masked Demon. Gathering the necessary souls, he opened the Bronze Gate and battled the Jack of Blades for the last time. He destroyed the mask that anchored Jack to this world, and returned to Albion. For a time, he was celebrated as a Hero again, the Saviour of Albion remembered for the time. But the people feared him still, hated him. The stain of his sister’s blood could not be washed away.
‘It has hardened his heart, this life. He has no one to love, or anyone to love him His only refuge…is himself. There is a darkness growing in Albion, the shadows stirring once again, and I see him at the center of it all. Is he our Saviour, or our doom? We shall have to see…’