D
Darg
Guest
The Eye of the Phoenix
This is my first piece I am creating for the Fan Fiction section, and I am quite thankful that I can finally show my writing to others. This is the first chapter I am making in a series of stories. Please tell me any comments or questions you may have.
Chapter One~ The Blood Debt
It was night in Knothole Glade. Veros was sitting in his home on the hill, looking out into the vast darkness. It was autumn, a time of peace and new beginning, of friends and fellowship, but something gripped his heart in an icy prison. There was something that was troubling him, a dream that he had the previous night that left a burning mark in his mind. It was rare for a strong, knowledgeable one such as Veros to be frightened, but this dream forced him awake from the haze-like shroud he had been living his life in.
In his dream, he was walking through Witchwood as he always did on weekends to calm his nerves. A calm rain was falling and the sound of a nearby bird could be heard. He stepped through a clearing, where a few flowers grew in all colors and sizes. He stopped to pick one up and could smell the fragrant scent flowing off the petals. Suddenly, the flower caught fire, a green, flickering blaze that engulfed it totally. It crumbled to ash and fell out of Veros’ grip to the grass below. As he looked up from the ashes, he realized that the field was burning. A tall, emerald wall of flames circled the clearing, trapping him in the center. He gazed at the sky above, watching in horror as its soft azure color was slowly replaced by massive blood-red clouds that obscured all light. A wild urge to escape filled Veros as he sprinted blindly through the clearing. He reached the flame wall, screaming and shouting for anyone, anyone at all. Silence greeted him as he could hear the far-off call of a balverine. He spun around to behold what he feared most, the one thing in all of Albion that struck fear into his heart.
“I’ve been waiting Veros,” said the voice of Jack of Blades, standing in the center of his fiery ring, his crimson cloaks fluttering around him like the wings of a great evil moth and his eyes reflecting the dark fire of the wall. “You have debts to pay.”
“What debt do I owe you?” Veros said, his voice shaking and his hand on his hilt.
Jack drew his blade, running his gloved finger over the edge of it as he hissed, “Do not be so naïve, Veros. Because of you and your bloodline, I have walked this damned earth looking for another suitable weapon of a true god after your ancestors destroyed my last blade, the Eye of the Phoenix. It was your great, great grandfather that sent my weapon over the cliffs of infernal judgment and ended my short reign over Albion. You are the last member of the bloodline to date, and it appears your luck has run out.”
Veros was sweating as he heard this. Many years had passed since his grandfather had told him the story of their past, and how glorious it was that their family, the Bantain family, had defeated Jack of Blades once. Now it had come back to haunt him. “What do you want from me, demon?” he screeched as he drew his long iron sword and looked into the deep fiery eyes of Jack.
“You owe me nothing,” he said darkly, “Nothing but a blood debt Veros.” With that, Jack swung his blade, fast and in a single motion, killing Veros. He awoke screaming to find that his hand was on the hilt of his sword and he had made a puddle of sweat. He had not slept the rest of the night. Jack of Blades was going to find him.
End Chapter One.
This is my first piece I am creating for the Fan Fiction section, and I am quite thankful that I can finally show my writing to others. This is the first chapter I am making in a series of stories. Please tell me any comments or questions you may have.
Chapter One~ The Blood Debt
It was night in Knothole Glade. Veros was sitting in his home on the hill, looking out into the vast darkness. It was autumn, a time of peace and new beginning, of friends and fellowship, but something gripped his heart in an icy prison. There was something that was troubling him, a dream that he had the previous night that left a burning mark in his mind. It was rare for a strong, knowledgeable one such as Veros to be frightened, but this dream forced him awake from the haze-like shroud he had been living his life in.
In his dream, he was walking through Witchwood as he always did on weekends to calm his nerves. A calm rain was falling and the sound of a nearby bird could be heard. He stepped through a clearing, where a few flowers grew in all colors and sizes. He stopped to pick one up and could smell the fragrant scent flowing off the petals. Suddenly, the flower caught fire, a green, flickering blaze that engulfed it totally. It crumbled to ash and fell out of Veros’ grip to the grass below. As he looked up from the ashes, he realized that the field was burning. A tall, emerald wall of flames circled the clearing, trapping him in the center. He gazed at the sky above, watching in horror as its soft azure color was slowly replaced by massive blood-red clouds that obscured all light. A wild urge to escape filled Veros as he sprinted blindly through the clearing. He reached the flame wall, screaming and shouting for anyone, anyone at all. Silence greeted him as he could hear the far-off call of a balverine. He spun around to behold what he feared most, the one thing in all of Albion that struck fear into his heart.
“I’ve been waiting Veros,” said the voice of Jack of Blades, standing in the center of his fiery ring, his crimson cloaks fluttering around him like the wings of a great evil moth and his eyes reflecting the dark fire of the wall. “You have debts to pay.”
“What debt do I owe you?” Veros said, his voice shaking and his hand on his hilt.
Jack drew his blade, running his gloved finger over the edge of it as he hissed, “Do not be so naïve, Veros. Because of you and your bloodline, I have walked this damned earth looking for another suitable weapon of a true god after your ancestors destroyed my last blade, the Eye of the Phoenix. It was your great, great grandfather that sent my weapon over the cliffs of infernal judgment and ended my short reign over Albion. You are the last member of the bloodline to date, and it appears your luck has run out.”
Veros was sweating as he heard this. Many years had passed since his grandfather had told him the story of their past, and how glorious it was that their family, the Bantain family, had defeated Jack of Blades once. Now it had come back to haunt him. “What do you want from me, demon?” he screeched as he drew his long iron sword and looked into the deep fiery eyes of Jack.
“You owe me nothing,” he said darkly, “Nothing but a blood debt Veros.” With that, Jack swung his blade, fast and in a single motion, killing Veros. He awoke screaming to find that his hand was on the hilt of his sword and he had made a puddle of sweat. He had not slept the rest of the night. Jack of Blades was going to find him.
End Chapter One.