WARNING: This is Book 3 in a series. If you have not read "The Breaking of Time" and "Forged With Blood and Iron" please use my profile to find Books 1 & 2 in the War of Imprisonment Series.

Thank you, and good reading!

Prologue: Blood Magic

Early Evening, October 28th, 249 Restored Kingdom

Village of Hera

Darkness - utterly lifeless, cold, and without meaning or form, surrounded old Baeju. All of the world had fallen away in the light of the demon's eyes and he was left helpless and alone in their glow. He was questioned, struck with severe pain when he resisted, and then left to drift within the shadows of his own mind. Weak, groggy, and barely aware of himself, the elder lost track of time and had no idea how many hours – or even days – had passed since Ulric cast his spell over him.

With a sudden, terrifying sensation of falling; feeling and awareness of his body began to return. First the frantic beat of his heart, then control over his arms and legs. He thrashed and flailed helplessly, falling farther and farther into the darkness; faster and faster, until he became convinced that he would surely be killed whenever he landed.

A final crash and a stinging explosion of light, brought the old man to his bed within the inn. Frantically, he gripped its sides and stared around his small room with wide eyes. Everything was as he remembered it – the walls, the small side table to his right, even the stack of folded clothes that he had left upon the floor at the far side of the room, all of it was just the same. But something still felt wrong here. The room had a tainted… or unwholesome sense to it – though he could not determine why.

For several moments after he woke, Beaju was panting hard and his heart felt as though it were going to thunder its way through his chest and escape. Drawing long, deep breaths, he tried to calm himself and focus his eyes upon the small details of his room. The wood seemed to lack the color that Renju's inn once had – as if the wood's oil had faded and began to rot. The brass handle upon his door had become tarnished and worn. It made him wonder how long had he lain in bed.

With great effort, the old man was able to pull himself to a seated position at the side of his bed - the movement caused him to feel dizzy. A sudden fever seemed to come over him and his entire body shook with pain and sickness. He covered his eyes with one hand and waited for the sensation to pass. "By the Goddess…" he groaned, but when his head cleared and he opened his eyes again – terror struck at his heart.

With a terrible shock, Beaju found that his entire room was now bathed in blood. Layer upon layer, bright red running down over rotted and black, it coated the walls and pooled upon the floor around his feet. Quickly, he slid backward – farther onto his bed – and hugged his own knees. "Blessed Hylia, honored guardian, and beloved mother of all upon the earth: protect this, your lowly servant from harm!" he frantically prayed.

Absolute fear began to take hold and the old man's mind teetered at the edge of madness. What had happened? Where was he? Was any of this real? His memory was distorted and foggy. He could remember eating a small dinner the night before… and sitting by the fire. There was a terrible blizzard coming down from the north and then… something… something terrible had come.

"So, you wake… old tortoise." Boomed a deep and menacing voice. Jumping with fright, the elder quickly opened his eyes, but there was no one in the room and the blood had vanished. "W-who… who's there?" he nervously called, looking around his chamber – desperately trying to find its source. A quiet, but very deep rumble shook through the base of the inn and the timbers of the room shifted and groaned. "Come to me… old man. Do not keep me waiting." The voice commanded.

The 'fever' continued to cloud his mind and muddle his thoughts. He knew this voice somehow… it terrified him, but it was familiar. Trying to concentrate, he remembered the hearth fire of the night before and… the door… the door had burst open and… something dark had entered their inn. It looked like a man… they were frightened, but it calmed them. The others! What had happened to them?! "RENJU!" he suddenly realized as looked to the door. With a final, great effort, his memory came back to him. The strange swordsman, the demands for information about the Lost Hero and the Triforce, and the terrible, overwhelming power that he seemed to carry.

Fighting panic, Beaju quickly turned to his night table and pulled the top drawer open. Inside, was a dust covered wooden lockbox, which he lifted out and set upon his bed. Closing his eyes, the elder knelt down and bowed his head. "Dearest Goddess, blessed mother, guardian and matron of all creation…" he whispered urgently, as the rumbling groan of the inn returned and grew louder. "Grant this servant one last ounce of your grace, Holy Hylia. Hear me please! The shadow has drawn near."

"Your Goddess is nothing more than a myth, old man. She cannot help you anymore." The dark voice boomed, rattling the handle of the old man's door. "Blessed Hylia, hear my prayer," he continued desperately, "protect this, your pitiful servant, in his hour of-" but the small click of the box's lock stopped him. Quickly throwing the lid open, he grabbed the small bundle of cloth inside and tucked it into his robes, beside his chest. "NO MORE PRAYERS! NO MORE DELAYS!" roared Ulric as the bolt shattered, and the door violently swung open.

Throwing his hands up to shield himself, the frail lore master was shocked to find that no one was standing in his doorway. Only the empty hall of the inn's second floor could be seen. After several moments' silence, the dark traveler commanded once more, "Come!"

The passage outside of the old man's room was twisted and strange. The inn itself seemed to have a decayed, ill look to it. The path from his chambers to the staircase bent and rolled beneath his feet. But above all of this, was the overwhelming stench. A strange, stomach-turning scent of half-rotted meat permeated the air. He quickly lifted the sleeve of his robe and pressed it over his nose to block the horrid smell, but still it leaked through.

Descending the stairs, he found the dark swordsman seated at the same table in the center of the hall. The hearth's fire had died, but the room seemed to be illuminated with a strange, unwholesome glow – though he could not find its source. Renju -his grandson- remained in the same chair that he had fallen asleep in the night before, blissfully snoring and unaware of everything around him.

"Sit and continue." The monster commanded – his voice echoing and warbling around the room. Beaju hesitated. He now knew that this madman served the shadow. Giving him any information – even information he already knew – would be giving aid to that darkness. "I will give you nothing more demon!" he spat, clenching his withered hands into small fists. His head still swam and the floor seemed to ripple beneath his feet, but he was a servant of her grace, and could not give himself over to the enemy.

"But I… have given you so much already, elder one." The beast growled, "Can you not… see… that?" he finished with a greedy sneer. Only now, with a terrible blend of exhilaration and terror did the old man realize – he could see! The oppressive frost that had covered his eyes, and robbed him of the beauty of the Goddess' world was gone! But now… now the world -this world- was corrupted and rotten. Was this real? Or was this inn some kind of illusion or dream? He did not know. His own powers had faded years ago and he did not have the strength to overcome the swordsman's spell.

"You have given much, old man, but you have not given me everything you hold. I have granted you the use of your eyes again. More rewards may come – if you serve me obediently and tell me what I want to know." The wanderer explained, "But resistance-" he quickly added, when the storyteller opened his mouth to object, "Will be met with… punishment." As he finished, Ulric lifted one finger from the table and pointed it straight upward, above him. At once, a sickening, wet, squelching sound could be heard in the rooms above them. Several soft thumps or bangs against the ceiling made the old man flinch and step back in fear. To his horror, a slow but steady rain of fresh blood began to trickle down between the floorboards of the rooms above.

Backing against the wall of the inn, he stared in horror as the drops of blood sizzled and hissed as they landed upon the floor. Ulric swiftly lifted his other hand, toward Renju, and the innkeeper began to tremble and gag immediately. "S-stop! D-don't!" cried the elder, but his grandson was quickly turning pale and a small run of blood began to drip from his nose. "Sit and obey, old man!" he shouted as his eyes began to glow with the same terrible orange light from the night before.

It was hopeless. No one in the village could possibly match this man's power and Beaju did not know how many he had killed already. "I relent!" he cried, "I submit! Just please… let the boy go." He cried. The wanderer cackled at his easy victory. 'Sheep' were so easily controlled – when you had the power to frighten and threaten them. Relaxing his arms, the disgusting horror ceased, and Renju returned to his peaceful slumber. The old man, desperate to save his grandson, dropped into the chair opposite from Ulric and stared at him in disbelief. "Blood magic…" he muttered hoarsely, "It is forbidden by all of the gods - greater and lesser! H-how could you sell your soul like this?"

But the beast only curled his lip into a disgusted sneer. "The boy." He growled. "He killed the dragon and returned to his princess. What then?" Beaju carefully considered what he should do before returning to the tale. The bundle against his ribs was the only weapon he possessed, but he would have to approach the monster to use it, and he doubted the demon would allow him to get that close. He would have to find some way to bring Ulric to him.