A/N: I do not own anything except for the plot- everything else belongs to Brian Jacques. Happy reading :))

Prologue

If she had been standing before the Obsidian Obelisk of Faelhor, she would've been greeted by the sight of the great pillar shattering. First, whisker-like veins streamed across the reflective surface of the great monument, marring its dark, pristine surface. Wait a little longer, and she would've seen those hairline fractures enlarge in a matter of heartbeats. With one loud, final mournful crack, which rang through the sky and shook the stars, the dark pillar would shatter into a thousand pieces and hurtle towards the ground. Moments before the pointed tip of the once mighty monument hit the dirt, the earth would explode, roaring and surging upwards, reaching for the sky, and sending shockwaves spiraling across the island. From the smoke of debris, a large shadowy figure would step out. Pointed jet black antlers rear out of the mist, spiraling towards the midnight sky. Sharpened claws tightly grip the hilt of a shining sword, and the earth shakes as the beast steps forward. Two piercing eyes flash open, and a jagged tooth filled maw opens and lets out an ominous roar that rings and reverberates through the once silent and peaceful night.

Badrang, Lord of Demons, had awoken.

Chapter One

"Timballisto! Timballisto!" The messenger pushed past the faded, ragged blue curtain and tore into the room, panting heavily. The said mouse, Timballisto, looked up, clearly startled, and hurried to his side, catching the messenger just as he collapsed from exhaustion.

"Matthew! What is of the matter? Someone fetch him some water!" Another mouse entered the room, carrying the much wanted glass of water and a pitcher. The messenger took a few rushed gulps of the cool liquid before speaking,

"The neighboring village of Barkhall, twenty leagues to the north, it-it's completely destroyed. E-everyone's gone!" Timballisto's brow furrowed and his mouth tightened into an urgent frown,

"What do you mean gone?" Matthew took another gulp of water before responding, his voice cracking.

"They-they're all dead, sir. Not one soul was still alive. I tried to give them all a proper burial, but-but there were just too many. The village was littered with giant pawsteps, larger than any I've ever seen!" The messenger collapsed again and began sobbing mournfully. Martin and Timballisto gravely watched on as their brains frantically tried to process the news.

"What did the pawsteps look like?" Everyone whirled around to face the doorway.

"Windred!" cried Martin. He ran forward and helped the old mousewife, his grandmother, into a chair. A few more gulps of water later, Matthew spoke again, wiping away his tears on the back of his paw as he described the haunting sight that had greeted him.

"They were several times larger than any of ours, and clawed. Based on the heavy indentation they made in the earth, I believe it's safe to say that this was a giant creature. Also, I found this." Matthew held up a tattered piece of deep, midnight blue cloth and a pointed black stone. Windred took the two items from his paws and carefully inspected them.

"Timballisto, your short sword." The mouse wordlessly unbuckled the blade from his belt and handed it to her. Suddenly, Windred slashed the short sword across the silken fabric. The onlookers cried out in dismay, expecting one of their only clues to be ruined.

"Windred!" Timballisto cried out, "What are you thinking, we need all th-" He stared on, slack-jawed in astonishment, for the fabric remained unharmed and pristine as ever. The same could not be said for Timballisto's short sword, which broke into several pieces when Windred lightly tapped it. The mouse chief stared at the remains of his short sword, then back at the old mousewife.

"I only know of one creature who wears a cloak like this. And your father was the one who killed him. And the stone. It is one from the very monument that imprisoned all of the demons." Windred looked at Martin. The young mouse clenched his fists and looked down, eyes tracing the swirls of the wooden floor. Windred continued,

"Many, many years ago, less than a season after Martin was born, a great creature attacked our tribe. This creature was the Lord of Demons, Vilu Daskar. With him was his son, Badrang, and several other lesser demons. Vilu murdered many, including Luke's wife and Martin's mother, Sayna. In revenge, Luke and most of the tribe pursued him. In the end, Vilu Daskar was killed, and every demon and mythical being was sealed to a remote island. At the cost of this victory, however, resulted in almost everyone's death. I believe it is safe to assume that Badrang seized control after his father's death and has escaped from where he was imprisoned. It is also safe to assume that he is now continuing his father's quest of corrupting the land." Timballisto bowed his head, and Martin knew that he was remembering Fripple, his betrothed and a mousemaid who had also been killed in the raid. Martin bowed his head as well, grieving for a mother he never knew, and a father who had left too early.

"So, how do we stop him? And this island, where is it?" Martin's stormy grey eyes narrowed and he lifted his head to meet his grandmother's wise gaze. Windred shook her head sadly and continued.

"Alas, the only weapon known to be able to kill a demon of such power is Luke's sword, and that is in the very hands of Badrang. And, the island prison has been long lost to the sands of time. It was erased from all maps in order to deter those who hoped to once again unleash the demons." Timballisto nodded somberly and spread out a piece of parchment,

"Then we should begin preparing the tribe for attack. And Martin," Timballisto looked at his young friend in the eye, "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't do it." The young mouse chieftain hurried out of the room to prepare the villagers for war. Martin stared after him, watching the blue cloth flap in the wind. Moments later, he deliberately slipped out and headed for the hut he shared with his grandmother. Windred watched him, and sadly sighed.

"Martin, you so much like your father, more than you will ever know."