Okay… so this is the plot: Three young sages, Lukas, Arthur and Vladimir, are summoned by the God of Death to stop a demon called Inazaru from corrupting the gates to the other dimensions and becoming the ruler of the universe by sealing him into an ancient relic known as the Hollow Crown (thus the title).
This is my first fanfiction and probably my most extravagant. This is kinda based of Ni no Kuni, which is a really good RPG game, definitely recommend it, with the familiars and the portal stuff. I might include the other countries, but there might not be a lot of smut/romance so if your looking for that, don't read this, you might be disappointed. There will be OC though.
I apologize for my grammar and punctuation in advance.
The Hollow Crown
Prologue
Familiars. Supernatural beings, or entities, that assist witches, wizards and magic folk. They can take the form of any animal imaginable- from a raven to a cat to a toad, just to name a few. They are commonly mistaken for fairies or demons but in reality, they are neither. A fairy is a humanoid creature thought to be good. Familiars are not always good. Demons are evil spirits that serve the darkest regions of Hell or Hades or whatever people call it. But they are not familiars; familiars are beings of assist and even though they are not always good, they are not so evil that they could be called demons.
A familiar can appear to a human in one of three ways; spontaneously, being given by a family member or another spirit, or during a difficult problem in their life. Once they make a pact though, there is no way out of it. They are together until death.
Mordes, the God of Death, was tired and bored. Not bored of travelling to the human world to receive the waiting souls of those expired so all they could do was desperately grab onto his long grey cloak. Nor was he tired of listening to the stories of the ghosts, how they were murdered or deceived, how they were once loved, how they disliked being in this present state of being a ghost, how they couldn't wait to go to Paradise. It wasn't any of those things. He sits on a boulder and begins to fiddle with his crooked staff.
He was bored and tired of being there yet nobody ever acknowledging him, or what he was. What about the saying "death is the next great adventure"? The time when people weren't afraid of dying- they were actually looking forward to it for goodness sakes!-was long gone, and what replaced it was a sign of fear.
He sighed. Maybe if he changed his image? Replace the image of the skeletal grim reaper with his real form? It's true: he wore a black cape that covered most of his body and dragged along behind him, in fact, that's what the souls grabbed onto when they saw him coming and he saw them. But in reality, he wasn't a skeleton and he didn't carry a scythe. He was a young man, at least 20 or so, with long, dark brown almost black hair that fell to his shoulders. He was pale skinned and tight lipped, with slightly sunken in cheekbones and long fingers attached to thin, long hands. But his most astonishing feature was his eyes. They were a brilliant shade of red- fiery and dark- yet they weren't human. They were more like a wolf's. Cold and steely yet they showed so much suffering and knowledge of the times gone by, of eras that once were but had now dissolved into forgotten memory. He hadn't forgotten them though. He had been carrying too many of the dead from their castles and bunkers to forget them. He closed his eyes.
"Not asleep are you, Mordes? It's not like you if you are."
His eyes snapped open and his head shot up. In front of him was a beautiful, elegant and tall woman with milky white hair that flowed down to the ground. Except it wasn't touching the ground. It floated like a silk scarf fluttering in the wind, never touching the ground or even stops moving. She has metallic gold eyes and a youthful face, much younger than Mordes, as well as manicured gold nails. She is standing with her arms crossed, yet she smiles and is trying not to laugh. She is wearing a long dress, gold in colour, like sand, with intricate red embroidery in the shapes of cats, birds and even a Chinese dragon that wraps itself from her left side to her right. Over that, she wears a cloak similar to Mordes. But instead of tattered ends like Mordes, hers is decorated with stars. Her cloak is special; it mirrors the exact position of the stars and the constellations in the night sky, even when there are so many clouds, you can always just star gaze into her cloak.
"I wasn't falling asleep, Sominæ. I was just thinking and I like to close my eyes when I think. Is that so much to ask?" he lifts an eyebrow, intrigued about her answer. She shrugs nonchalant.
"What were you thinking about?" she's closer to him now, sitting beside him. He stiffens slightly. He's never been comfortable around his siblings, especially his sister. At least with Gailan, he gave you the courtesy of not getting so close that it felt uncomfortable.
"You remember the olden days?" A nod. "Well, I was thinking about that."
She sighed, shaking her head whilst looking in disbelief, "you're not rambling on about that again, are you? The past is the past, deal with it. Gailan has, I have, why can't you?"
She pauses for an answer but she doesn't get one. Mordes avoids eye contact.
"It's strange," she stands up and stretches a little, working out some of the tension in her arm that had been bothering her for a while, "you're the second oldest yet you're acting like a child. I'm supposed to be the one acting like this, not you." She laughs, but Mordes doesn't respond.
"Gailan says hi by the way. See ya." And with that, she left, leaving Mordes on his own again, fidgeting with his staff, this time on the runes etched deep into the grooves.
He stands, his cloak floating and twisting. He lifts his staff high above his head and he begins to chant. His staff glows silver and blue, then turns lighter until it is surrounded by a pure white light. He slams the end into the ground. Softly though, not hard like you would expect, but it still makes several small cracks appear from the ground. A white sphere appears before him, glowing and revolving. He touches it with his right hand and it grows and flattens like a window. A large black wolfish looking dog appears in the window and lightly growls. His eyes are black but they have reddish tints, like embers on coal after a fire, and his canines are slighter longer and whiter as well as his claws. However, his coat is not long and glossy like a wolf's but it short, showing his sleek, muscular figure. His tail is much the same; more like a snake's than a wolf's.
What would you like, master? The voice of the hellhound echoes in Mordes' head, like a vibration inside a cave. Mordes does not speak. He doesn't need to.
What is the situation with Inazaru? The hellhound growls again, his ears flatten and his tail tucked between his legs. Mordes can not hide his shock from his face; he has never seen this from his trusted familiar. Something was wrong.
What's wrong? Tell me! He demanded, his voice rising in anger. The hellhound responds with the most terrifying news.
He's escaped.
Inazaru looked around him. It had been difficult. Being chained to a pillar for over 500 years had taken a lot out of him. He wasn't as strong as he was when he was younger. He still didn't know how he managed to get out, it still seemed like a blur to him. All he could remember was blood. There was blood everywhere; on his fingers, on his wings, on the ground of the prison, on the throats and chests of the guards and the less hellhounds. Not the familiar of that blasted god who helped to trap him there though. That was a little disappointing.
Now he was standing on a cliff overlooking a small village near the foothills. A smile began to form on his face. He stretched his arms, working out the joints in his bat-like wings, and extending his razor sharp claws. He twisted his right hand and, upon hearing an audible click, a flame began to burn on his palm. His lizard green eyes narrowed and his nose pulsed with the smell of human blood and flesh.
Oh, it was good to be back.
Author's note:
Wow, my first chapter/prologue and its not even 8 yet.
Okay, so Inazaru is a demon, demon/mage to be exact but I'll specify later. He's been trapped in a cave/prison for at least 500 years by the 3 gods, but he has particular hatred for Mordes for, again, another thing that will be in the story.
Next, the gods: I'm not trying to base them on any Hetalia character/rendition of gods in particular except for Sominae, whose appearance seems to turn into a hybrid of Fem!Prussia and Sandman. But it works since this is a Hetalia fanfic and she is supposed to be the Goddess of Dreams. Sorry, I forgot to mention that. They 3rd God is Gailan, the God of Life, the oldest son/child. Think of their –Mordes and Gailan- rivalry being Zeus and Hades.
Also, first mention of familiar! Yeah! I love hellhounds, probably because I read way too much Percy Jackson.
So please read and review, this is my first story so comments are welcomed and appreciated. Thank you!
Also, I don't own Hetalia. It is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya.
CopperKitsune
