Prologue part 1: Physics
What force, on this plane or the next, has the ability to save someone from the clutches of Death itself? What force, dear viewers, has the ability to rescue the entire planet, nay, the entire Universe from the brink of destruction?
The pendulum swings. It always has, and always will. Time continues. There is nothing in this realm or the ones beyond it that could alter such a blunt fact.
However, it has other interesting properties. It can slow, distort, but humankind has never been able to manipulate it for their own gains. They never will, for if that day arrives, then our whole planet will fall into the brink of Anarchy and despair.
There are a certain few, however, that possess a power beyond rational thought. They can control time. They can turn seconds into minutes, hours, or even days. Such a power is inconceivable to an ordinary human being, for if they had access to it, then nothing and no-one can stand in their way to righteousness, or to absolute destruction.
The only thing constant is the speed of light. Nothing can alter that. But how fast does light travel, when time itself is slowed to such an extent, that light takes an hour, to cover a mere inch in space? The ultimate constant in the universe, and the fastest force, is dependant on time. What if The Flash, the ultimate speedster, was never able to move at such a velocity? What if, he had the ability to slow time?
It is said that each living creature has their own personal strand of time, beginning from when they were first created, and finally being severed when they pass on. When any creature breathes their last, time stops for them. It is cut from the other, infinitely woven strings of time, and for an amount of time so small, so immeasurably minute, they stop time. However, to them, that amount of time is eternal.
Time can never be stopped. To stop time, is to stop life itself.
The Earthquake struck with an absolutely brutal force, relentless in its destruction, and wrathful in its presence. Civilizations crumbled, cities fell into the dark abyss below. The Earth tore in two, and the Seers of their time called it 'An end of Days.' Ripping through the ground like a demon unleashed, it shook the foundations of Mother Nature herself. Days became shorter and the nights lengthened as it traveled around the world, through the oceans and causing devastating Tsunamis, permanently altering the polar ends of the Earth. From it's origins in modern Northern Macedonia, it spread across Europe like a plague, tearing massive fissures in the ancient ground, uprooting civilizations of old and paving the way for new ones. The Felopians, a nomadic, war-like race directly responsible for the discovery of Sulfur and its combustible properties, disappeared in the proverbial blink of an eye. The Harotians, cultured, civilized people originating from what would be now recognized as Spain and who were responsible for the discovery of the wheel and the written alphabet, were swallowed by Gaia as she opened her jaws across the plains and consumed all. That somber day, the Earth exterminated the knowledge of the ancients. Life would start again, however, and those few who remained would work tirelessly towards rebuilding their homes, their world, from scratch. The Earth however is a cruel entity, and from her dark bowels, thirteen servants of Hades sprung loose, and proceeded to wreak havoc upon a world already torn.
Prologue part 2: Strange Occurrences
The night was dark, unusually so for the warm months. There was no comforting red glow on the horizon, caused by the ever-present warming sun. It was cold, and the wind pierced Demetrus' skin, chilling him to the bone. He shivered instinctively and turned to his brother Nektarius.
"Aisthanomai kati... kati then einai sosto etho..."
Nektarius turned and met his brother's stare with a silent nod. Something was definitely not right, and he could feel it too.
Demetrus tightened his grip on the hilt of his brilliantly crafted sword. It was of a unique design and shape, and was said to be crafted by the great forger Melanides, who was rumoured to have spent two years creating it, before finally completing his magnum opus and crossing the Styx the next 'xymeroma.' It was so strange in its appearance that no suitable scabbard could be found for it, so Demetrus was forced to carry it exposed to the elements around his waist. For something so weightless however, flimsy it most certainly wasn't.
It is also mentioned in whispers that polluted a certain Taverna's air that before Melanides passed on he traveled to many countries in the East, learning new techniques in weapons forging and sword-wielding. But alas, he never adopted an apprentice, so the secrets of the Orient crossed into the afterworld with him. Now, what remains of his magnificent work lay in the hands of Demetrus, a captain in the Hellenic army. It is unknown how a mere soldier came across such an amazing sword, and even some outlandish rumours claim that Demetrus was in fact related to the great forger, who in turn was a descendant of Hephaestus, the God of fire and metal-working.
It is also said that, in an attempt to deny Hades access to such a gifted and talented weaponsmith, Zeus himself rode down on the back of Pegasus and snatched Melanides away from the clutches of the ghosts that were doomed to eternal wandering. Such a story however, is for another time.
Demetrus looked upon the city he resided in and guarded. It was eerily silent, not a sound emanated from its bowels. No lights from a lantern flickered, no tell-tale voices signifying that a few sparse residents may still be awake. The low-slung pristine white buildings that were such a marvel to gaze upon, with their magnificent columns supporting their substantial weight, were nothing more then shadow casters of the night, with the black upon black appearance on the cobblestone road deepening.
He turned back to his brother and began to speak.
"Adelfe, bories na fugies. Ego tha to prosexo."
With a raised eyebrow and a perplexed look the young soldier turned and glanced at the stoic and determined face of his older brother. It wasn't like Demetrus to relieve him from his position two turns of the glass early. Then again, reading his brother's face in order to determine his intentions was an impossible act, and Nektarius had trouble concluding whether or not his brother was joking or being serious. Besides, his bones ached, and his mind pursued sleep with reckless abandon, with only his eyes remaining as a last line of defense. He was tired, and he longed for a good night's sleep. He decided not to press the matter, just in case Demetrus changed his mind. He knew perefectly well however, that once Demetrus decides on something, he can be as stubborn as a mule in sticking by it. With a quick nod and a quiet 'Thank you' he shuffled off to bed, eager to remove the bronze armor and shield he had been forced to bear all morning.
Demetrus kept a silent vigil over the sleeping city. He leant on one knee that was raised upon a small wooden stool, and placed his chin upon it. His rough, unshaven face proved that he had not seen home in days, and a long, thin scar on his left cheek made it clear that he had seen enough action. His eyes, a stone grey, never rested. Only for the briefest moments to blink did he allow his eyes to close. The years he had spent fighting the foreign invaders from the east and the growing threat of the West had honed his skills to a tee, and he could often see what others could not. That is why he was stunned when a razor-sharp leaf slammed into his un-armored shoulder, digging into his skin and causing him excessive pain as blood, his blood, poured out of the gouge and washed the leaf away.
"Gamoto!" He cursed as he covered his shoulder with a gloved hand, attempting to stem the flow of the crimson fluid.
"Ti Sto Diaolo eitan afto?" He asked himself. He had never seen anything like it in his sixteen years of service in the Spartan army.
In the distance, beyond the glow of his lantern, he heard something. A deep growl so low in tone and pitch that it rattled his teeth and caused his lantern to jitter wildly emanated from the darkness beyond his field of vision and gripped his heart in ice. The growl subsided, and a peculiar buzzing din replaced it, growing in intensity.
He squinted his eyes and gazed further into the darkness.
He slumped slightly once he realized what the source of the sound was. "Ochi re gamoto." He cursed again, lifting his heavy bronze shield in an attempt to guard himself from the unknown that was now rapidly speeding towards him.
Through the bleak blackness, a furious cloud of what appeared to be leaves emerged from the darkness and raced towards him with brutal velocity before striking his durable shield with a force that would have snapped an unprotected man in two. He gritted his teeth and dug his right shoulder into the back in order to strengthen his shield, but the onslaught was simply vicious, and Demetrus was forced to relieve some of the pressure by stepping backwards and retreating. He took one, two, three steps, unwillingly knocking over his lantern and extinguishing its flame, bathing the whole street in treacherous black.
If this was any other man, the combined fear of darkness and the threat of an unknown, perhaps supernatural enemy, would have easily caused them to turn their tails and flee. Demetrus however, was of Spartan origin, and Spartans never give up. This is especially useful in this case, because if he had lowered his shield and attempted to escape, the razor sharp blades would have entered his retreating back and shredded him to pieces in mere seconds.
Instead, Demetrus waited with utmost confidence in the durability of his bronze Hoplon shield, and before long the barrage of green and brown subsided, the leaves that had so ruthlessly been trying to tear him to pieces now lay scattered and broken on the cobblestone street below.
Another growl emanated from the darkened street, making Demetrus' skin crawl and causing him to withdraw his sword that until now had been hanging relatively undisturbed on his side. Instead of the blade being dead straight like ordinary swords of his time, it was thin, light and above all, curved in a slight crescent shape. This feature, along with its other unique properties allowed for the sword to prove itself as a devastating weapon, and giving its possessor an advantage in dueling.
Demetrus held the sword firmly in front of him in his right hand, and his shield on the left, effectively covering most of his body save his head and feet. It was slightly oblong in shape, and extremely sturdy, but also was very heavy, as bronze is not known to be a light metal. One sandaled foot after the other he proceeded down the pitch black road, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness and scanning every corner of the darkened street, but he saw nothing for the moment.
Another growl emerged from the other end of the street, rattling Demetrus' teeth yet again and shaking his ribcage. An ember red glow immediately followed the teeth rattling growl and glimmered at the far reaches of Demetrus' sight. It was extremely faint at first, nothing more then luminosity from a firefly, but it grew steadily brighter, stretching and expanding from its origin until it bathed the street in sinister crimson.
Demetrus noted the sudden expanding light and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword that he held angled towards the now red street.
A final terrifying roar came from the source of the red glow, and the scarlet light began bouncing madly towards Demetrus in what seemed to be a drunken dance, its moves erratic and uncalculated. Demetrus took one look behind him, then turned towards the bouncing red light and dug his sandals into the cracks of the stone.
Prologue part 3: To Sanctify
It was an absolutely terrifying creature. It was easily three heads taller then Demetrus, but it hunched forward in an attempt to examine the foolish creature that dared to defy it. Demetrus remained impassive and firm, merely flinching as the creature inhaled and hollered a deafening roar, the air simmering and heating up as it struck his face. It had striking blood red skin that stretched over its impressive frame and four unbelievably long horns protruded from its forehead and curled behind similar to those of a wild yak. Razor-sharp teeth stained yellow littered the inside of its mouth and gums as its lips were curled in a sinister scowl. It had two slits where a nose should have resided, and they expanded and contracted with every intake and exhale of breath. Smoke emerged from its mouth, nostrils and ears, as if a fire was smoldering deep within its bowels, and in its left hand it held an iron sword engulfed in orange and scarlet flames that snapped and crackled as they bounced madly off its blade. It was donned only in a dirty brown cloth that covered its waist and lower body, and a pair of long, jagged, bat-like wings protruded from its back, the skin in between each bony support black, whereas the bone itself in the wings was crimson. Demetrus looked upon this spawn of Hades, his blood running cold at the horrendous sight, but his face was not of terror, but of steel resolve. If he ran, he died. If he fought, he might not die. That was his reasoning, and that is what saved him.
For a creature so large, it moved extremely fast and Demetrus barely had enough time to dodge its fiery blade as it crashed down onto the pavement below, cracking the stone tiles where Demetrus had stood only moments ago.
Barely a second after Demetrus had recovered the creature swung again, the flames that engulfed the blade creating an arc of light as it whistled down towards him. Again Demetrus ducked and rolled, and it landed on the stone below with such force that it sent shockwaves throughout either end of the street.
There was a momentary pause on the Demon's behalf as it attempted to lift its blade, and Demetrus saw this as an opportunity to strike. He reared his armor-clad arm back and brought his curved blade down upon the red flames that covered the Demon's sword and shattered it, its pieces falling to the ground with a clatter, before turning to ash and being swept away by the slight breeze that traveled through the city. The Demon looked at the hilt of its once lethal sword stupidly, and remained motionless for only a split-second.
That delay was all Demetrus needed. He brought his sword back and with a grimace underneath his bronze hoplon helmet slashed the Demon's chest, black blood spewing forth from the newly created wound. Demetrus stumbled back, the sickening black fluid stinging his eyes and face and he brought up his arms to wipe his face clean with his sleeves. The Demon roared in pain and anger as Demetrus desperately wiped his eyes and face clean of the blood.
The Demon's powerful legs compressed and he launched himself into the air at an impossible speed. It reached the peak of its jump and unfolded its wings and thumped the air, black blood now raining from the sky where it remained motionless.
Demetrus, now relatively blood-free, tilted his head towards the sky and a menacing figure filled his view, silhouetted against the full Mediterranean moon.
The shadowed and sleeping city emanated no noise and betrayed no movement and the only sound Demetrus heard was the steady 'Thwump' of the beast's wings as they skillfully stroked the night's air and supported it, and the slight 'pit-pat' of the droplets of black blood as they struck his armor and the cobblestone below.
The Beast struck first. With a final stroke from his wings, it let itself free-fall and it extended its clawed arms as its wings folded behind and underneath its shoulder blades and it roared with a pure, unadulterated animal hatred that stemmed from Hell itself.
Demetrus bent his knees and prepared to leap out of the way again, but before he did so he swung his shield around his body and dropped it roughly in the spot he stood moments ago. He then leapt out of the way, and by the time the beast had realized what Demetrus had done, it was much too late. At the velocity it was traveling, it rammed into the bronze shield with a gut-wrenching 'Clang', snapping it in two and creating a crater in the ground as it slumped motionless.
Silence befell the street once more, and the Demon lay still on the cobblestone road.
Demetrus stood up and approached the massive red figure. He could see by the rapid rising and lowering of its chest that it was still alive, so he reared his sword back to deliver the final blow.
He brought the blade down and it pierced the air like an arrow, before coming into contact with its neck and lopping its head cleanly off.
In the distance, lamps were lit, and curious inhabitants of the once sleeping city emerged from the doors to their homes in order to investigate the foreign sounds. Demetrus stood motionless, his sword hanging limply on his side and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His face was still caked in black blood, and he could taste the bitter liquid.
"Ti egine edo?" Demetrus turned to face his brother, who had just appeared from the darkened street behind him. Nektarius placed a hand on his shoulder, a look of concern washing over his face. He then noticed the massive red mound that lay motionless behind him. His eyes widened tremendously and he gasped silently.
Now, this is an update for my prologue. The next chapter should be up very soon.