The Son of Mortis
Right now…
The dark cavern was lit up by numerous candles. A tall male in a black cloak and a white shirt with yellow eyes embedded into a bald, white head stood in the centre of the room, which had a marble floor, and began to chant. He chanted ancient words from Mortasian, language of the Mortismers, under his breath. He was preparing himself for the kill, as a tiger prepares to rip open his prey. He, son of Mortis and embodiment of evil, had finally caught his goody-two-shoes sister. She would be dead in an hour. He had the Dagger of Balance, the only thing which could kill him, the evil Son, his father, the one who kept the two children's battles in check, or his sister, the good Daughter.
But he was nervous. He knew she had an ally in the form of that boy, Zrádce. Interrupting his train of thought, an officer ran in. "A boy just ran in, sir! Said summin' like 'I am Zrádce, hero of the world' and cut your sista free!"
"Oh, damn."
The Son ran into the execution chamber, which was a large, round room with execution tables and execution weaponry in one corner and a large pit of lava in the middle, above which prisoners were suspended and slowly lowered towards the fiery depths of despair, and declared that he was going to kill his sister, whatever happened. I have a plan. He thought. "I have a plan." He said.
He produced the Dagger of Balance and charged at the blonde haired, tall boy named Zrádce.
The back story…
Key
Zrádce
Red writing
Son of Mortis
Bright green writing
Ever since he was a boy, the only thing Zrádce had cared about was being a hero. He spent lessons doodling on his books. He doodled pictures of great warriors, with mystical powers.