Prologue

Prologue: The Midnightmare

Summer 10, 1545, Fourth Age

The corpse lay, eyes open and face contorted with fear, trapped at the point of death; frozen with terror at what had killed him. There was blood everywhere; on the teenager’s chest, soaked into his clothes, caking his arms and splattered across the tree he was propped up against. Nothing seemed untainted by his metallic scented body fluid. His neck was torn apart and the veins protruded at a curved angle, no longer spurting violently- the boy had been killed within the hour, and he was bathing in his own, now congealed, blood. The teenager was tall and blonde with well-defined features. He wore a standard issue military jacket that signified him to be a soldier, probably from the local garrison. Lightning crackled in the sky, and the horrible sight flashed white for a moment, before the heavens opened, and rain beat down on the scene, as though trying to cleanse it.

            ‘Another ritual killing,' muttered Asmir calmly. The dark-skinned man inspected the tree. Another flash of lightning caused him to notice intricate carvings, all strange runes from a language long-dead. ‘Demonic,’ he added. He could sense the Demon Magic in the air, hanging there like a bad smell, stinging his nostrils and watering his bright green eyes.

His road to the Fire Temple had been littered with similar corpses, so he wasn’t surprised to find another. Asmir wrinkled his nose at the smell of blood. Sighing, he walked over to the dead adolescent and lightly closed his eyes. 'Didn't stand a chance.' he shook his head, his wet, dark hair whipping his face.

Asmir liked to believe that the human body was a vessel, and that the soul was eternal, but his teachings told him otherwise: death meant a one way journey to the Four Hells, and an eternity struggling in the infinity of the Underworld. However, there were exceptions to the rule.

Necromancers, demons, revenants- just a sample of the supernatural beings that could transfer themselves from the world of the dead to the Overworld.

Forty years had made Asmir used to sights like these, so he didn’t waver or flinch at the touch of cold skin and sense of evil magic. Instinctively, he summoned his magical strength and sent a jet of flames towards the body, his enchanted fire unable to be quenched by even the harshest rain. Don’t want to risk him coming back to life, he thought. Dead walkers are the last thing I need. The adrenaline high that came with the magic was immediately counter-acted by the nasty smell of cooking flesh. Asmir scanned the fire carefully as the cremation ended, checking that there were no remains left to be used or consumed in a disgusting or sacrilegious manner. The last thing to go was a small ring on the young soldier’s right forefinger. It was a plain silver band, and Asmir looked almost sorrowfully at it as it dissolved in the intense heat of the magical fire, before evaporating and returning to nature.   

            ‘I wonder who he was,’ Asmir said under his breath. ‘His Soul Ring was powerful, poor kid.’ He clutched at his own ring on his left middle finger, and the wedding ring he wore on his third finger. His Soul Ring held access to his Fire Magic, and was his greatest weapon as a Paladin- one who would fight the supernatural in the name of his god and Order, even if it cost him his life. His grey, military-style jacket and the badge attached to it told the world that he held the second-highest rank attainable.

Asmir removed a squashed cigarette from a pocket inside his jacket, and lit it with an incantation. Adjusting his glasses before cracking his scarred knuckles, the realisation of how old he was becoming began to hit home. He had every right to retire, but a large part of him wanted to keep fighting. Paladins in every Order were growing uneasy; something was coming, and no one anticipated it to be friendly. Times like these were unsettling, and no one wanted to appear weak, or to shrink in front of a new danger.   

Thunder grumbled in the clouds above and the wind picked up suddenly. The temperature dropped, and a fell aura began to envelope the air. Concerned by the sudden change, Asmir stubbed the cigarette out on the sole of his boot and picked up the pace. Time to make for the Fire Temple and get some rest before dawn.

            The forest air was dank and dense, and the dark weather made evening become night far faster than anticipated. After nearly half an hour of hiking, the sun had set completely and periodic flashes of lightning were Asmir’s main source of light. The temple had to be close by; he had walked this route numerous times, but the storm above him was disorientating and confused his senses. He slowed down, trying to gather in his surroundings. The trees around him grew thicker and the path began to slope. He crept through the downpour, trying not to slip on the mud or trip on a tree root.

            Asmir heard something crack behind him, and he turned abruptly, magic coursing through his body like a caffeine rush.  

            ‘Settle down,’ a familiar, deep voice spoke from the darkness. ‘It’s just me.’ The thunder cracked, and the newcomer’s identity was revealed. He was taller and younger than Asmir, and they wore almost identical grey jackets. His face was dirty and scarred, but that was no different from usual.

Asmir smiled with relief. ‘Mavrias,’ he said, standing up straight and shaking the Paladin’s hand tightly. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’

            ‘I was on my way to the Fire Temple,’ Mavrias said, his eyes dark and serious. He paused as though reluctant to repeat something he had seen- or done. ‘There were… bodies. All cut at the throat. No, they were torn, as though by a vampire, or a wolf, or a-’

            ‘Demon?’ Asmir finished, his voice sombre and accepting.

            ‘Yeah.’

            ‘Hopefully the Temple is alright,’ Asmir said worriedly.

‘Perhaps we should go back,’ Mavrias said, nervously.  

            ‘They have enough strong Mages and plenty of wards protecting it- I doubt anything could get through,’ Asmir assured Mavrias and reassured himself.  

            The younger Paladin nodded and followed, albeit reluctantly. The night grew deeper, and their visibility was almost non-existent, until they noticed the small glint of red blinking at them through the foliage. It can’t be fire, Asmir thought, reassuring himself. Fire is orange. No. If it’s still alive, it must be magical. ‘Be ready,’ he warned Mavrias, his voice sure and steady.

They advanced with caution, the lack of light allowing them to see only a few feet in front of them. The closer they drew, the stronger the scent of burning and the presence of death grew, overwhelming Asmir’s senses. The scents stung his nose and made his head hurt, and the smoke that hung in the air made his vision even worse. He pushed through the foliage and for a moment was blinded by a red light that made his retinas ache. 

The building he had hoped would be his haven was completely gutted, burning, and riddled with bodies. The thin paper and wooden walls were almost gone, and the few brick and stone monuments were smashed to ruins. Monks, nuns and priests were scattered about the clearing, in and around the fallen temple, all with eyes wide and filled with fear. The density of the rain meant that the fire should be dead or dying, but it raged firmly and the flames were unaffected. The few remaining wards engraved into the ground contained the fire to the clearing, but Asmir could see that it wouldn’t be long until the entire forest burnt red with the demon fire.

‘How could this happen?’ Asmir said furiously. ‘What happened to the High Priest!?’ He spun around, looking for someone or something to answer his question. He stopped when he heard a groaning noise to his far right.

Lying on his side, heavily mutilated, was Mavrias. But if Mavrias is here, then who-

Blood trickled from Asmir’s mouth as something sharp sank into his stomach. He looked up at who had attacked him. At first he saw Mavrias, or was it? Was it a copy, a fake, a-

‘Hello, Asmir,’ Mavrias said, speaking in a different voice. His accent was sharp and cutting, and his tongue wrapped itself around the words like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey.

Mavrias began to flicker, as though he was a hologram sustained by magic, or a spirit unused to living in the Overworld. As though Mavrias himself was distorting, his face and body warped until he had transformed into a person Asmir hadn’t seen for nearly a decade. He was thick-set, middle-aged man with golden eyes and red, whisker-like markings on his chalk white face. His ears and teeth ended in thin points, and his hands were like talons, and seemed strangely out of proportion in comparison to his large arms and rippling pectorals.   

‘Leonard Valerian,’ breathed Asmir, pushing the man from his body and staggering backwards. The Soul Ring he wore turned to dust and transmuted into a small blade which quickly expanded into a massive scimitar.

‘Did you like that?’ Leonard Valerian said mockingly, his milk-white, pointed teeth forming haunting smile. ‘That was my Light Magic Secret Art: Full Glamour Illusion.’ He noticed the badge on Asmir’s chest. ‘They made you a Sage?!’ he said, mockingly. ‘They really were scraping the barrel after I left.’ He sent what looked like a bolt of lightning towards the real Mavrias, who was still clinging to life. ‘I told you to die,’ he said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

‘Demon scum,’ Asmir said through gritted teeth. ‘Why did you do this?’ He pressed his hand against his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His limited knowledge of healing magic wouldn’t be enough to help him. He held his sword tightly and tried to summon all of his strength, both physical and magical. 

‘What does it matter?’ Leonard said, shrugging.

‘Tell me, or I’ll make you talk!’

‘Don’t be a stereotype. I’m looking for something and I couldn’t find it so I decided to have myself some fun.’ Leonard spoke casually, irritating Asmir.

‘Damn you,’ he responded. ‘I’ll send you back to whichever hell you came from.’ Asmir ignored the throbbing pain in his abdomen and stood up, straight and proud. ‘I gave an oath to fight and die for my god,’ he said fiercely. ‘Unlike you, I’m no coward and I will gladly give my life if it means I can avenge my daughter.’

‘Avenge?’ Leonard said, holding up his hands innocently. ‘Lucinda came to me of her own accord. She got what she asked for.’

‘No daughter of mine would become a demon by choice,’ Asmir said, blood trickling from his mouth.

‘It was nine years ago- surely you don’t still hold a grudge? It’s not as though I killed her.’

Enraged beyond salvation and running out of time, Asmir dived at him, his sword prepared to slash at the demon’s flesh. Leonard dexterously parried the attack with his clawed fingers and threw his assailant across the clearing with a single slap. He followed Asmir at an amazing speed, hacking at him furiously. He struck his face, lacerating his cheek and left eye.

            Despite his injury, Asmir avoided the killing blow and rolled across the forest floor and out of reach. Accidentally hitting one of the temple’s remaining walls, he hit his shoulder and his sword dropped to the ground. He used his Fire Magic to control a section of the undying flames and threw a massive ball of fire and rubble at Leonard. It struck the demon in the face, and he hissed, diving at the injured Paladin.

The remnants of a sliding door fell on top of Leonard, leaving him stunned. Taking the opportunity to strike, Asmir coated his fists in flames and took a swipe at his demonic foe. Leonard didn’t allow him the chance to strike, dodging the punch expertly and stabbing upwards with his talons.

Razor-sharp claws dug into Asmir’s neck, tearing at veins and arteries, slashing through skin, muscle and tissue. He shuddered and fell limp, tears on his face and failed vengeance drifting from his dying mind. Leonard threw him to the mud and blood-soaked ground and turned his back on the Paladin.

            Asmir lay there, the sound of the fire in his ears and the feel of the rain against his face. He lay there in agony, said a prayer to his god, and died after a few minutes.