Prologue: Son of the Evening Star

The opening for Avatar's Perdition. Potosia is blessed with multiple sentient races. Humans live there much as we do here, in nation states and villages. The D'Jao are a tribal society that once boasted a rich and powerful civilization, which eventuall

        He folded his great black wings behind him, his dark violet hair resting on his azure back, as he stared with disbelief at what stood before him�the answer he had sought all his life, the Orb of Fate, an artifact of unimaginable power, dropped in his path as if by accident, an afterthought of a careless god.
        �Is it a sign?� he asked himself, desperately trying to sift through the haze of his memory to understand how he arrived and what had brought him here. �It�s the only explanation�it�s a sign from the gods�and�I am the Messiah.
�Spirit of the Orb, hear my prayer,� Shakai pleaded, kneeling before the great dark sphere that lay in front of him, as tears welled in his mismatched eyes. �Hear my voice and awaken from your eternity of slumber�for your humble servant has arrived.�
        �For many ages I have awaited the one whose eyes are of the moons,� the Orb began, a darkness radiating within, �One red, one green�a god born of the D�Jao. Since before the dawn of your nation, before your race had life, I have awaited the one who would give me the questions for my answers. Are you that one, Shakai, son of Rhone?�
        �I am,� he declared, his awe growing that the Spirit would know his name, �I have searched for ages for this place, waited my entire life for this moment.� He smiled, revealing his smooth, rounded teeth, �I don�t even remember what it was that brought me here. Tell me, Spirit of the Orb, what is your name, so that I may address you properly.�
        The Orb glowed brighter, warmer, �I am the first to live and the last to die. As I go, so goes the universe. I am the All, the Beginning, the End, everything. I created it. I am the one that the Hyumahans �Yaldabaoth,� but you will know me by my proper name, that which the D�Jao, my chosen people, call me��Demiurge,� the Creator. God.�
        Tears welled up in Shakai�s mismatched eyes. �You whom I have praised and sought all my life�Am I your prophet? Am I worthy of serving the Most High?�
        Demiurge glowed within the Orb again, �What do you seek, my prophet, Shakai the Worthy, Kel-Shakai, emperor of all things, my agent upon the world?�
        �I seek redress against the Hyumahn race,� Shakai replied, his mind plagued by flashes of the destruction of his family in the jumble of his memory, �I seek safety for my people, I seek an end to Hekara and the mind-rotting faith that that abominable empire inflicts upon the world�dishonoring your word with hatred for your people. I seek a future, where the D�jao need not live in fear, where the world is returned to the natural order�where we, the superior race, dominate the kiyari, lesser races who do not seek the one true god�you.�
        �How do you wish for me to accomplish this?� Demiurge asked, drawing Shakai�s demands further.
        �My people need unity,� Shakai continued, �We need a leader, one who can bring the tribes together against our common enemy.
�Then I shall send you my Final Messiah, the Lost Messiah, of whom the Sacred scrolls foretold,� Demiurge replied, �For every age has had its divine Avatar:
        �The Golden Avatar, fair and true, brought the D�jao to Potosia from the blackened sky, stealing fire from the sun and sealing it within the nine Orbs, so that you could master my creation;
        �The Silver Avatar, strong and brave, brought my word to your people;
        �The Copper Avatar, bold and wise, taught you the ways of technology, literature;
        �The Iron Avatar, fierce and daring, taught your people of honor and warfare.
        �There is one more, if you can remember the scrolls, the Tome of the Prophets,� Demiurge concluded, �One foretold by the others�greatest Avatar of all, the once and future Messiah, who died before his time. My son.�
        �Who?� Shakai asked.
        �Think about it�think deeply�you have all the time in the world,� Demiurge replied, �and I have all the time to teach you.�
~
        �Alara! Run!� her father shouted the last words she heard before the mob crashed through her door. �Run away and never come back! Live for the world, live for us, for our people are dead.�
        �But Daddy!� she protested, �Where will I go?�
        He shook his head, raised his right hand, revealing the ancient rune that had grown into it, �You have one, your brother Shakai has another, and I have the last. Were your mother here today, things would be different. The day of fate has arrived�Vallon returns this night. You are the Chosen One, his Spirit Bride.� He shook his head, as if to convince himself of something he had only just now started to believe. Rhone Gallica ran his long white fingers through his long violet hair, rolling his narrow green eyes at the thought.
        He knelt down to his daughter, looking into her emerald eyes for emphasis. �Shakai will protect you as best he can. Remember the legend of Vallon�never forget that he is your true destiny�let no one stand in your way!�
        �You said it was just a story!� Alara protested, as the mob came closer.
        �It was,� Rhone answered back, shaking his head, �or so I thought�it doesn�t really matter now, does it? Find the Orb, find your destiny, and embrace your future as leader of our people. You are the Chosen One�you know what that means don�t you?�
        She nodded, half-lying. �I will seek out the Light and avoid the Night, for the Dark Man waits to steal my future,� she said, wiping the tears from her face. �I remember the story.�
        �Good,� Rhone replied, �Never forget that�avoid the Dark Lord, for he is a man stalked by death. The Dark Lord, the Wolf, and the Gunslinger�avoid them at all costs�do you understand?�
        And then she awoke, cold and alone, surrounded by the darkness of an eternal night, with only the stars and the moons to illuminate her murky path. �Where am I to go?� she cried, the tears rolling down her ivory face, as she fell to her knees in prayer. Behind her lay the wreckage of her life, before her lay an uncertain future. All around was fear, death, emptiness and a shallow grave of despair. �Please, God, I beg you, where do I go now?�
        As if in answer to her prayer, a new star appeared to the south, lighting the sky with the brilliance of midday. She smiled meekly at this, folded her wings, and mouthed a silent �Thank you� to God and all those who aided It. She stood and followed the light, wherever it took her.
~
        Raymar En-Tanavi stepped from his tent and surveyed the green valley that would become a killing field before the dawn. Tonight would be the night. Tonight would be the end. The long slumber of the giants was over�the reign of terror that had been the Gnoll Confederation was doomed. He had seen it all before, he would see it all again. For him, the end of this battle was just another chapter in a sad story told by a fool.
        He wore only his pants, black denim jeans that had seen more than one conflict in their day. His chest was adorned with an ancient scar that cut from shoulder to appendix, as his back bore scars that told tales no one wanted to hear. Around his neck was a chain given him by his father, a gift from a friend that bore three pieces of metal whose inscriptions had faded over time. Once they bore a man�s name, someone lost to history, telling his story in three lines in the condensed language of the ancient Merikhans.
        His left hand bore the Star Burst Sapphire, an ancient ring handed down by his father from the same man who had worn the small pieces of silver that decorated Raymar�s necklace. It was said that it symbolized a promise, one made by the great hero Vallon Arnor in times long forgotten, to a friend whose name was lost to history.
        One day, Raymar was told, he would give the ring to a little girl born from a wish, a woman who was more real than anyone he had ever known, the �dreamer,� as Vallon called her.
        �How will I know her?� Raymar asked his father when he received the ring.
        �You will,� his father replied, �and that is all I can tell you.�
        He looked round himself at the men, hoping to see something that might bode well for the morning, hoping to take his mind off the ring that weighed so heavily now. Like all D�Jao Q�Zarron, they were nocturnal, fearing daylight and embracing the night. A new star to the south only complicated matters. �Vallon�I�m sorry. It�s not over yet, is it? The Harroum will never die, so long as you still live. I guess I�m proof of that.� He shook his head, wiping a silent tear from his eye, a tear that followed a scar earned lon ago, in a battle lost to history. He looked upon the ring on his finger. �The Star Burst Sapphire will never be lost, will it?�
        �Say again?� a female voice asked. He looked back to see a tall and muscular woman crawling out of his tent. She wore a long shirt that stopped at the lower edge of her buttocks, barely covering feminine secrets that she had divulged to Raymar only hours before. In the light of the moons and stars, her cold-hardened n*****s protruded like curious eyes from her chest, wondering about the world around them.
        �Lieutenant Commander Vawn!� Raymar exclaimed, �What are you doing up at twenty-five thirty?�
        �Couldn�t sleep,� she replied, �never could before a battle.� She looked to the new star, �come to think of it�I hardly ever sleep anymore.�
        �You mean you used to sleep regularly?� Raymar asked.
        �No�maybe,� she replied, shrugging her shoulders, �I mean�my dad tells me that when I was a kid, I slept like normal people. Since I grew up I slept less and less.� She smiled, �But I guess it hasn�t done me any harm�I look great for my age.�
        �How old are you?� Raymar asked, raising a thick black eyebrow.
        �Older than I look,� she replied, turning her head and sticking her nose in the air with a smirk. Besides�that�s classified.� She surveyed the great green pastures that spread before them, looking into the valley where the Gnoll lay like lambs awaiting slaughter, following their beloved prophet like lemmings. �How old are you, Black?�
        �Older than I look,� Raymar answered back, still using his alias �Black Sword� in this context, his smile revealing a mouth full of long, pointed fangs. Vawn shuddered at the sight. His pale skin, red eyes, and sharp teeth were something she could never get used to. �All right�when Choras was founded, I was one hundred and twenty years old, if that gives you a clue.�
        �That would make you at least a thousand years old then,� she replied with awe. �How is that possible?�
        �You don�t want to know,� he replied, shaking his head, �When you live twenty lifetimes and see everyone you love born and die, born and die, born and die again, you cut yourself free from the burden that is caring.�
        She contemplated this as the new star shone. �What is that?� She asked.
        �A comet, most likely,� Raymar answered back, averting his eyes from the light. �I can�t see it being anything more.� He knew this was a lie�he knew exactly what it was. Vawn, seeing the deception and how it pained him to answer, refused to go farther.
        �What�s a comet?� she asked, hoping to force the truth out of Raymar.
        �A giant snowball in space,� Raymar said, happy to let the new start fall, �and if it�s coming toward us, you shouldn�t worry. I wouldn�t�looks like it�ll just burn up in the atmosphere.�
        �Are you sure it�s not a Tear of the Crimson Moon?� Vawn asked, causing Raymar�s eyebrows to rise to his hairline. �You know�they say that ages ago, the moons came too close together and ejected everything that lived upon them at us�and that�s how we got the orchard backs and green jacks.�
        �That�s a stupid myth,� Raymar replied, �just like how they used to call the D�Jao��Children of the Crimson Moon,� all lies told to frighten children.�
        Vawn could sense the tension in Black Sword�s voice. She knew how much Choras needed this alliance with the D�Jao if they were to beat the Gnoll. She would just have to live with the pain until then. �You think tomorrow�s the day�I wonder if this is how Vallon felt the night before the invasion of the White Tower.�
        �I imagine this is exactly how he felt,� Raymar answered back, smiling, �have a good night, Commander.�
        �And you as well, Jal-Q�Zarron, if you�ll come back to bed with me,� she replied with a smile, calling him by his proper title, a title that never failed to produce a shudder.
        She stopped and stared at him, thinking hard about their time together, �We have sex, and yet you still don�t trust me enough to tell me your real name�why?�
        �Not my way,� Raymar answered back, still looking to the stars. �You may as well tell the Gunslinger to be friendly.�
        �He is friendly,� Casana replied, stepping into the tent, �with prostitutes. Are you coming back to bed, or do I need to get a w***e of my own?�
        �I will join you shortly,� Raymar said, sighing, �It�ll be worth the wait again.�
        �Twice in one night,� she said, stepping back into the tent, �With a man, no less. I�m getting spoiled. You can keep your name as long as I get everything else.�
        As she disappeared, Raymar looked to the star and pondered what it all meant. �The cycle of the world begins again�when will we ever break free?�
~
        �It�s a sign from the Creator!� Micas Arnor declared, dashing into his ruined cornfield to find the mysterious light that had fallen from the sky. �It must be!�
        �Please don�t go!� his wife, Ladeel demanded. She clutched the seven fingers of her left hand around her husband�s scrawny arm. �What if it�s a monster? What if it�s one of the children of the crimson moon?�
        �What if it�s an angel and he�s hurt?� Micas asked back. Ladeel stared into his remaining orange eye and wept�she had no reply. �Please let me go to it�we have to know.�
        �Not without me you�re not,� a deep voice demanded from behind. Micas turned and saw a bald man, about four feet tall, cloaked in black, his great white smile peering through the gauze he wore on his mouth to prevent blood loss. He stood before a group of twenty other Hyumahns from the village of Anzareht, a town hit by the Rads far worse than most places on the outskirts of civilization. �What if this is an angel? What if this is a demon?�
        Micas smiled back, bounding down the steps to shake Father Torama�s rightmost hand. �I�d be happy to bring you along, Father and all the others as well.�
        With that, Ladeel bowed and returned to their old wooden house, always a step away from a total collapse. She could sleep well, knowing that God would protect her husband, whatever he may find.
        They dashed into the cornfield, twenty-two men unafraid of what lay before them. At the center of it all, surrounded by crushed stalks of what had been a great crop, there stood a great golden dragon, with golden wings and blue hair, curled up into a great ball. They approached it; apprehensive at first, wondering if they had finally found a messenger of their god, a dragon sent to save them in this time of need. Father Torama bowed in prayer, and the others followed. Only Micas kept his eyes on the creature that lay before them.
        The dragon shriveled, turned gray, and began to crumble. Slowly its flesh turned to ash as it crumbled away, bringing a tear to the eyes of all that dared to look up�they loved the dragon and had no idea why.
        From the husk that had been its flesh, a small pale baby crawled free, cooing as it entered the open air. Micas ran to the child and embraced it�a beautiful and majestic infant, like nothing he had ever seen. Skin the color of the sky, eyes the color of the earth, and a small pair of wings that could only mean one thing�he was an angel, fallen from heaven, a gift from the Creator.
        �No belly button,� Micas noted as he surveyed his new prize, a baby who had latched onto him as if he were the boy�s natural father. �He�s got everything else a healthy little boy should have�doesn�t even look like the Rads got to him�so why doesn�t he have a belly button?�
        �No navel means no mother,� Father Torama replied, �means he must have been a created infant, sent down from Heaven.� He crossed himself in blessing, as the others did the same, �This is surely the hand of God at work here; make no mistake about it!�
        �What should we call him?� Micas asked.
        �Whatever you so desire,� Father Torama replied, �name him for your father, yourself, your favorite saint�anything.�
        �I shall name him for an old word for hope I heard, a long time ago,� Micas Arnor declared. He held the boy up for all to see, �Behold my son, Vallon�Vallon Arnor.�
~
        �And so it has come,� the old man said, staring from his perch, high above the world, in his great white tower. �After all these ages, my enemy has come.�
        He was the Grand Santara, the high priest, of the state religion of Hekara, the Holy Church of the Hallinian Alliance, and the true power behind the throne of the Hekaran Empire. He was known as Gauramov IV, a name he had taken in honor of a saint who had won salvation by slaughtering an entire tribe of D�Jao hundreds of years ago. They were the last of the Doraklavay, �The Children of the Golden Dragon,� they called themselves. �Godless heathens� seemed the better term in Gauramov�s mind.
        �What has come?� a small voice asked from behind. Gauramov turned so quickly that his flowing violet robes nearly knocked the boy over. His face was flush�even paler than usual, and he felt as though the boy had caught him masturbating. It was the Octam�s ten-year-old son, Calidon.
        �No one, young prince,� Gauramov replied to crown prince Calidon Salk. Courtiers and the Senate eagerly awaited the day that the boy would take the throne, knowing full well that he lacked the common sense and moderation of his father�he would easily be the pawn of any and every sycophant who crossed his path. �I feel that there is a chill in the air,� he turned and closed the curtains, �we must be off to bed.�
        �But I don�t want to go to bed!� Calidon shouted back. �I want to stay up!�
        �Then stay up, sirah,� Gauramov replied, his voice dripping with contempt as he used a term reserved for the lowest caste of society, �stay up and watch the new star.�
        �What does it mean?� Calidon asked, coming to the window.
        �It means,� Gauramov answered, thinking of a proper way to manipulate the brainless brat, �It means that God has graced your reign, that you shall take the throne of the White Tower, and then, eventually, the world.�
        �When, Grand Santara?� Calidon asked.
        �Soon,� Gauramov replied, �very soon.�
~
        �A champion�from the ages of old,� Shakai declared finally, �The greatest of them all.�
        �Greater than my children, the aeons, even,� Demiurge replied approvingly, �Then, for you, I shall recall unto the world the Steel Avatar, drawn from an era long past. He shall be reborn to this world, a boy who would be a god.�
        �How will I know him?� Shakai asked.
        �You will,� Demiurge replied, �in time. In time, you will know the Steel Avatar. But know this,� he continued, �beware the Dark Man�for he brings your death. Beware the wings of the dragon, for they foretell your end. Destroy them, and you shall reign supreme! Kel-Shakai, ruler of Heaven at my right hand!�
        With that, the Orb grew silent once more, leaving Shakai alone in the darkness of himself, lost in his inner mind.
        

Reviews

[Marie]

Nice.

[JC Fox]

Excellent I'm hooked and I can't wait to read more

[Sparrow]

Very well written. I can't wait for the next chapter. I really like your descriptive nature as well, and hope I can learn some things from you for my books.