Gems of Ephedia: Emerald Chapter 1: The Mask, a lolirock fanfic

Chapter 1: The Mask

January 21, 2017

Note: Oh my God, that season 2 finale! Mephisto! Praxina! Anyways, I'm writing this long before season 3 comes out (if it comes out, I hope it does) and I really want to write this.

This chapter is a little rough and I'm still trying to get the hang of the tone.

Happy reading!

His head pounded.

The man tried to open his eyes, feeling mud and blood caked over his lashes.

He groaned, every breathe sending pain up and down his spine. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to be alive. He could feel his broken ribs flare white hot, making him wheeze.

He forced himself to turn over. He barely had any strength to roll over. Suddenly, he was rolling down the side of a hill marred with crystal and rocks, every one of them beating at his body. Gravel and other silt fell after him. He let out a whimper when his side hit a particular sharp rock that pierced through his jacket and dug into his flesh.

He refused to cry, despite the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Instead, he opened them, unsticking them from the blood.

The man brought a hand up to his face, feeling for the wetness. A head wound. How had he survived?

He looked up seeing shafts of light pierce through the lush green canopy. He inhaled the forest air. It was humid and had a sweet crisp taste. He let himself lie on the ground, trying to gather his strength.

He heard the trickle of water and that galvanized him to move. He had not realize that his mouth was so parched.

He needed to keep going. He needed to move. If he didn't, he was good as dead by nightfall.

He forced himself up despite the protest of his body.

All around him was black crystal, sapping away at his energy. He needed to get away and heal. It took him all his strength to get himself on his feet. He propped himself beside a mossy fallen tree.

He grabbed his side. His white jacket was blooming red flowers near his stomach. There were shards of black and red crystal protruding from his wound. He exhaled, wincing and crying.

One foot in front of the other. That's all that mattered.

Left foot, right foot.

He focused on moving towards the river. He walked for what felt like miles. Every step was an effort, an argument with himself to stay alive. When he finally reached the edge, he fell to his knees and splashed some water on his face, feeling the water sluice down his collar and over his skin. It felt fantastic, but it stung the wound in his side.

He stripped his clothes off, starting with his gauntlet, his gloves, his cape and then his white jacket. He hissed as the bloodied fabric unstuck itself from the open wound. Threads and bits of wool that had been buried deep into his side tugged at the caked blood and flesh.

The sun's heat beat down on his neck and back.

Here came the hard part: removing the shards of crystal. He brought a hand to his wound and gathered his magic. His magic sigil appeared in hand and cast a green glow. He winced as the slivers slid out and brought on a fresh wave of pain and nausea. Sweat beaded on his temple and let go of the spell. He started to wretch into the river. Most of it had been water and spit.

He tried again, steeling himself for the pain. Rather than going slow, he pulled the shards out quick with barely any time to think until he felt the cool air settle on the exposed wound and that had him doubling over.

He grabbed the blasted black crystals and threw them into the river. He breathed out in relief. Already, he could feel his magic stitching his wounds up. He laid down on his side and curled up.

He dozed until it was sunset and he could feel that his body was stronger, or at least not bleeding profusely from his middle. His stomach rumbled.

Hunger.

He could not remember the last time he ate.

He rolled over and winced. His whole body hurt like he had been trampled by a demonic beast. He drank some water from the river and pulled himself up to find something. He was in no condition to hunt, he barely had strength to walk or cast a spell.

But shit, magic required energy and energy came from food.

The man grabbed his shredded jacket and used a shard of green crystal to cut a ruined lapel into bandages for his wound. He put on the rest of his clothes and got on his way.

He needed food, shelter and a fire for the night.

He scrounged for berries and mushrooms until he happened upon an animal trail. He was lucky enough to catch a rabbit with a crystal dart with his sluggish reflexes. He had yet to encounter anything more ferocious than the animal roasting in his small fire. The meat was gamey and tasteless. His only solution was to squish jujuberries and let it cook.

His shelter for the night was a fallen pine tree and its dense branches. A chill was starting to set in and he dumped another log in the fire, fascinated by how it turned black and caught fire.

He ate half of his catch and saved the rest for the morning. He knew he should not sleep but he was so tired and his body hurt. He curled up under the tree and tried to rest, half-alert to all the frightening noises in the forest.

000000

He dreamt.

Like most dreams, they made very little sense.

He found himself dreaming of places and times—maybe memories of things his waking mind had forgotten—but he had no idea what it was all supposed to mean.

He saw a room with tall glass double doors and airy white curtains swaying in the wind. It was barely morning and he recognised the trappings of a four poster bed above him. It was warm and he did not want to move. He looked to his right and he saw a round cherubic face with messy platinum blond hair sleeping. He recognised the childish face.

He was sure that this was a memory from his childhood. He was a child, maybe three years old, and there was a girl beside him, he was not sure who.

On his right lying on the bed with them was a woman whose face made him well up with emotion. Joy, happiness, peace. She was perfection and love incarnate. She was their mother. They were sleeping in her big bed in their big manor. Her room smelt like freshly cut flowers and incense.

The two children had slept with their mother after she had told them that their family was going to be bigger and then she and her husband had had to explain to them how babies were made, but all of it was beyond them. They had asked a zillion questions and fell asleep in their parent's bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she hummed into his hair. He pretended to be asleep so that this happiness could last. "You have to get up."

He could already his hear his father and the knights in the courtyard gathering for morning training.

Then dream fell away to another scene.

This time, he was a little bit older. He was in the courtyard now, hefting a sword and fighting one of his father's simulacra as the other men fought each other in sparring matches.

He was losing the fight even though he was trying his damnedest to recreate the manoeuvre his father had taught him. His opponent disarmed and shoved him to the ground, making him lose his concentration. His sword was obliterated into shards. The boy rolled out of the way before his head met his opponent's blade. His father stopped the fight and made him stand up and recite all his mistakes.

There was a girl sitting in the corner of the yard, reading her book. She had already lost her match and she was sulking. He joined her after getting water from the fountain.

The girl's hair was dark now, red at the roots but still blond at the tips, just like him. They were learning magic now. Magic in the morning with their mother and her ladies-in-waiting, combat in the afternoon with their father and his knights. It had been a particularly difficult week of training and both of them were demoralized with their lack of progress.

"Mama is making cookies," he said, sniffing the air. He knew where the kitchen vented and he smelt the familiar sweet spices of their mother's baking. It made his heart flutter. "Let's go steal some."

"You're such a snumple," she whined.

"Well, I get to lick the spoon then." He headed for the door that was held open with a crystal.

"Hey, not fair!"

"Fair is for sissies!"

"You're a sissy!" The girl scowled. She marked her page and shut her book, hopping off the fence to go sneak into the kitchen after him.

The dream changed again, moving to the great hall of the castle.

He was just thirteen years old, kneeling on the long red carpet in front of his parents' throne. It was solemnly quiet in the great hall and all of his father's knights stood like statues, their eyes trained on him. His mother's absence made the room seem colder. His sister had been sent away and he would join her in Gramorr's army to fight the Ephedian Empire.

His father was praising him for being a shining example for all sons to emulate and brought down the flat side of a ancient steel sword on his shoulders. He could not make out the words, too focused on his mother's empty throne.

"You are now a knight of Erebus, rise," his father said, and he did so. The man anointed his forehead with oil, drawing a warrior's rune and brushing his long dark red hair out of his face. There was a hint of warmth in the gesture and the boy refused to acknowledge it. He was not here to have tearful goodbyes.

He had to remember why he was here and why he was fighting. His mother's empty throne would be that reminder.

000000

The man sat up abruptly, his supernatural senses waking him up. The camp fire had gone cold and a dark presence clung to the air.

A flock of birds flew overhead, desperately trying to escape. The man stood up, his pupils becoming narrow slits as he tried to discern what was in the darkness. The earth shook. A herd of deer rumbled through the trees and jumped over the roots, running by him.

He could feel it in his bones. The great dark magic that had brought the Queen of Ephedia to her knees. Gramorr's magic. It swept through the forest, blackening the earth and draining the trees of their essences.

Like a coward, he ran as fast as could away from the rolling miasma. Black crystal sprouted from the ground faster than he could see. Branches scratched his face and tore at his clothing. A sapling smacked into his injured side, making him see spots.

He ran until his legs screamed and his lungs burned. His cape snagged on a tree and was ripped off his shoulders. He leapt over a log and struggled to climb a steep hill, trying to find purchase with his hands and feet. With a boost of magic, he leapt to the top and kept running. The darkness kept pace nipping at his ankles. It darkness growled and swiped at his back, shredding the back of his tunic and causing red blooms to appear.

He let out an agonized shout, the cool air burning his back. His magic began stitching his skin immediately. He turned, gathering his magic.

"Ateruina!" He blasted wildly with everything he had, green energy scorching the ground.

The darkness receded behind the line of burning earth and hissed at him.

He knew it would not stop the darkness. His spell was a tiny thing compared to the great bottomless well that had consumed Gramorr. It would not be satisfied until it had him as well.

The darkness could not be stopped so easily.

Without waiting, he ran.

He did not stop until he reached the edge of a cliff, trapped between a sheer drop and a waterfall that tumbled into the valley below. In the moonlight, the river was a silver knife that cut through the valley and drained into a lake in the distance.

He felt the hairs on his neck stand up and turned, soaked to the bone from the white mist that rose up from the waterfall. He would make a last stand or die trying. The black magic curled and prowled. Two glimmering eyes followed his movement. In the darkness, he saw a dark red fire prowl through the trees. The dark avatar was nearly as tall as him and quiet as the wind. The flames in its fur flickered under the moonlight. It let out a throaty growl and dropped something on the ground. Half of a silver mask.

The man bristled, feeling his stomach churning. He recognized the mask, the shape, the colour, the evil it seeped into the ground and turning the earth black.

It was an offer. It was offering him the mask and its powers.

"No," he said.

The feline creature let out a throaty growl, displeased. It took a step towards him. He took a step back, shaking his head. "No," he said again.

The creature roared and swiped at him.

He flinched, taking another step, and then realized his fatal mistake in that split second of free fall. The man fell into the ice cold water and got swept up by the powerful currents. He plunged down the falls. His last thought was that he would at least die a free man instead of the vessel of the demon that had consumed Gramorr.

The creature looked over the edge, baring its yellow teeth and flicking its fiery tail.

Notes: Leave a review if you like this story. I'm doing this for Camp Nano this year and it would be great to hear some feedback. Thanks for reading!