Prolog
Three men with long black beards walk towards the entrance of the hidden cave. Their long black hair hangs down around wide cowboy hats and their long black coats cover their entire body from their shoulders all the way down to their long black boots. In fact, everything about them is long and black, except for their skin, which is kind of bruise coloured. Nonetheless, you might mistake them for just extraordinary humans on first sight. Actual humans probably do mistake them for extraordinary humans, but I know better than that.
They pass my hiding spot without noticing and I allow myself to breathe again. For a second I thought I was too sloppy. That I may have grown too confident from all those little successes I've been having lately. I have to remind myself I'm not invincible. Not yet, at least.
The three Mogadorians go straight for a rock formation in the side of the mountain and only now do I notice the small hole that probably leads deep inside the mountain. I have been expecting something like this, some sort of hidden entrance, but even with my advanced abilities, I had no clue where it was. Guess you have to know exactly what you're looking for to find it.
As the Mogs enter the cave, they walk by a bunch of dead animals, and without even paying them any attention they just step on the remains. I grimace and turn away. Of course it's no use; it makes no difference if I turn away or not. I can still see them crunch the dead animals under their boots. It's the downside of my abilities, the gift's curse. Still, it's hard to overcome old habits.
When they have disappeared inside the cave, I decide it's time to make my move. Waiting won't make it any better and I'm sure, that by now the Mogadorians will have realized that I'm not in Jamaica anymore.
I silently stand up and rub my wrists. My feet have gone numb from the hours spent sitting behind these rocks. The reason why I came to West Virginia in the first place was to check some rumours about a UFO being spotted near a mountain in this very national park. After some research I figured I had to go and take a closer look.
I hide the big wooden chest under some loose tree roots. Not a great spot, the side with the padlock sticks halfway out. Anyone who looks behind this rock will probably be able to see it, but it'll have to do. I won't be in the cave for long, anyway. I keep wondering why we were not given backpacks instead of those unpractical chests, though.
I put on my Loric glove and test it, just to make sure it still works after all this trouble in South America. When I close my wrist, the glove extends until it covers my whole arm. At the tip it gets sharper until it forms some sort of blade. When I hit the rock I've been hiding behind, it cuts right through it. Yup, still working fine.
One last look at the chest, then I duck and run towards the cave, trying to avoid the carcasses. One more reason to hate the Mogadorians, I think while hopping in between the empty spaces on the ground.
I stop for a split second to make sure no one is following. A noise to my left makes me jump, but it's just the wind in the trees. I bite my lip. So far, so good. I slip through the entrance and I can already feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Back in the years my Cêpan was still alive, it used to be hope that drove me. Hope, that forced me to carry on, to go through all those hard times. Hope that we would survive. That the Mogs wouldn't find us, that all the surviving Garde would come together and then eventually, one day, take back Lorien and claim what is ours.
I have given up on hope long ago. All I can think of now is revenge.
The three Mogs are still inside the tunnel behind the entrance to the cave, but they have their backs turned towards me when I sneak in. They don't expect anyone to attack them, which is why they feel safe enough to deactivate the force field around the cave. Their guard is down, they have become too sure of themselves; just like the Loric had when almost our entire species got wiped out. On that day, when the Mogadorians invaded Lorien and everything collapsed, they paid for their mistakes. And they paid badly. But the Mogadorians make mistakes, too. And that day, it was a grave one: They let a few of us survive. A mistake I won't make.
The three Mogs turn around in surprise, just when I jump at the first and ram the glove-blade right into his heart. Ash has never tasted better.
Hey everyone!
This is the Prolog of a fanfic I've been thinking about for a while now, and I'd really like to continue it. First, I want to know if anyone's interested in reading more of this or so. I know there are tons of awesome fanfics about the Lorien Legacies, I hope someone will take the time to read this, though.
So... please, please, please leave your thoughts in the commentsection, it would really, really mean a lot to me.
Please :)