Winds of Change

His eyes flashed open, quickly scanning the darkness he could feel the essence of something coming through the door way. Footsteps echoed off the hard rock walls as the door knob turned. He grabbed the double barrel revolver off the side table next to his bed and cocked it. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he sat in the dark room in anticipation of what was coming. With a loud burst the door came flying off its hinges smashing against the right wall of the room. He squeezed down on the trigger taking his fist shot; the shadow dissipated into a dark fog and reformed at the foot of the bed. With a quick roll he pushed himself of the bed firing two quick shots towards the shadows face. I quick light of spark went off in the room as the shadow sliced the two bullets in half with a blade. The shadow flung the sword at the man sprawled on the floor; He made a quick roll to the left as he heard the blade splinter the wood next to his ear; rolling over onto his back he saw the shadow standing over him with another dagger. It shimmered eerily in the darkness almost as if it had been in illusion. The dagger sliced through the air hitting the man dead center in between the eyes engulfing his world in darkness. 

The shadow sat down on the bed with an exhausted sigh of relief. Staring down at the man that had once been named Jacob Leviton, it took out a cigar and lit it with a spark from its fingers. The black shroud vanished before the light of the cigar; there sat a man slender with black shaggy hair and scars enveloping his body. His nose was a little crooked and the left of his face was seared by flames. He placed his boot on the dead man’s face and withdrew the dagger from his skull with a sickening geyser of blood coming from the wound. Wiping the dagger off on clothed corner of the bed the man reaches down to grab the long blade out of the wood. The sword almost seemed like it absorbed the few bits of light that was coming from his cigar. He sheathed the sword on his back and flicked the remains of the cigar across the room. Turning towards the door he noticed that someone was standing in the doorway. “Well that seemed absurdly easy for you my grim friend.” The man in the doorway uncrossed his arms and made his way across the room, the metal on the heel of his boots clanking as he walked. “Aristotle… didn’t know there where two chosen in this place.” The scarred man said with a deep hushed voice. 

The man named Aristotle had bright red hair that seemingly looked as if it was about to catch on fire at any moment. He was slender and pale with a somewhat long face; A gash across his forehead was somewhat hidden by his long bangs. ”Ah, well I was sent to replace the eighth seeing as how you just put a dagger in his face.” He shrugged stepping forward. “It’s quite unique for somebody not even ranked to be able to kill one of the chosen thirteen, but not unprecedented. So the number one sent me here the other day to make sure you received your brand… Salazar.” Salazar flinched at hearing his name, but what was more troubling was the news that they had expected him to do it. 

The leader of the chosen was almost never seen or even talked about. The commoners thought it bad luck to talk about someone that they thought about as a god. Little was known about the number one but a lot was known about his right hand. Salazar looked at Aristotle as he was shifting threw his trench coat pockets looking for something. Salazar knew that Aristotle was rumored to be the most powerful out of any group of chosen on the planet. He had reached the rank 8th before he was even fifteen, some said he was a demon, others said he was the reincarnation of the flame god.

“Satan’s testicles, how hard is it to find a soul emblem!” he sighed while pulling wrappers out of his trench coat pocket.” Ah! There we go, maybe it’s time for me to clean out some of these pockets. I have in absurd fixation with peppermint candies.” With a smile on his face he produced a golden token. He flicked it over to Salazar and produced another one from his pocket. He turned it over to show Salazar the other side of it.” These are the brands of the chosen, now seeing as how you were never ranked in the top 200 I doubt you would know what they’re used for. These little coins are shown to ranking masters at the arena hubs, every week you get a gold payment. Now as for the chosen we also get rare equipment and other things our scavengers find, but that’s too long to explain so you will have to take it up with whoever you go to for your weekly payment.” 

Salazar rolled the coin between his fingers; it was solid gold with two blanked sides. “Almost forgot. We need to bind your soul to it.” Aristotle showed the other end of his coin. It was bright gold, almost white and had markings etched around the edge of it that where crimson, the center of the coin held a carving of a great demon swinging a flaming sword. At the bottom there was a glowing three. With a flick of his fingers the coin was gone again. “Now place the emblem on your heart.” Salazar did this almost instantly feeling it drawn into his flesh. He grunted as it dug against his chest, a panic set in as Salazar thought he had been tricked but as soon as the thought had appeared the coin stopped. It dropped into his palm. The gold coin had turned into a grey square with the letters SALAZAR in jet black on one side; on the other, it had the weird symbols etched into the top of the square. Below them was a wolf as black as night with hairs that looked like daggers. 8th was etched just below that in crimson.

”Guess we are all done here.” Aristotle said making his way towards the doorway. “A word of advice from one of the thirteen to the next” He turned around eyes glowing like embers in a fire. “You and your master that taught you how to use that accursed magic should know that the winds of change are blowing. Beware of the 1st; he is not one to be trifled with... Remember that, for when you come to seek his throne I will be his consuming fire that will burn all, even the winds.” A gust of wind howled threw the room and Aristotle was gone.

Salazar stood there for a few moments contemplating the words he had just heard. He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a roll of Tabaco. He traced the wolf on the emblem while lighting his smoke. “A wolf… perfect.” He said in a raspy voice. He made his way over to the doorway his footsteps echoing of the walls. The dead guards he had killed before entering the room lied dead and bloody on the hallway floor, the flies had already started gathering. He stepped over the bodies and made his way over to where he left is black trench coat and his pointed cowboy hat with the basilisk teeth around the rim. Putting on the coat and hat he made his way to the wooden door at the end of the hallway; it was made of wood and let in some of the sunlight from outside. Salazar tilted his hat over his eyes to block out the incoming sun as he opened the door.

The air was crisp and wild as it blew throughout the canyon ridge he was standing on. He looked up towards the blue sky watching the two suns; intertwined in there dance of eternity. The red dust blew around him making his coat tail flap in the wind. A lopsided smile grew on his face. He let out a laugh,” The wind of change!” The shout echoed throughout the canyon. Chuckling he sat out into the hot desert with the suns dancing right behind his back.

Author's Note

Well, my grammar is pretty horrid, I didn't really go over it to check and kind of just let the words flow without worrying to much. What I want to know is how to improve the vision, the character dialogue, and the overall flow.