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Chapter One
He stood at the waterfall focusing, preparing, he knew they would come, but when, and more importantly why? He focused again on the waterfall, moving his hands in intricate motions. He stopped, closed his eyes and raised a hand to the waterfall, concentrating and carefully measuring. He needed to use an exact amount otherwise it would be a failed test.
A faint monochrome light poured from his palm into the water.
The water ceased to fall, frozen, the orange glint of dusk reflecting off the glistening surface laced with powdery feather like cracks and flaws. He glanced at himself in the glassy ice, shaking a stray leaf out of his messy hair.
Five and a half seconds, which in itself was vaguely alarming. His average was seven, the sudden increase was probably due to all the background energy he was soaking up. The forest really wasn’t good for his health, and he dreaded to think he would end up like the poor animals of the forest that had ‘evolved’ into rather sinister offshoot breeds due to the intense energy of the place.
He brushed his fingers through his hair, scowling. It was shoulder length, with dark brunette strands weaved and crossed chaotically, curving faintly at the tips. It was parted and brushed behind his ears to prevent it being a nuisance, but several lank tendrils of it insisted on hanging over his face. Its dark colour contrasted with his pale complexion starkly.
He was tall, but had an air of youth around him that tended to confuse people as to what his age was. He appeared about fifteen or sixteen but his features had a vague tired look to them, which again made his age hard to pinpoint.
He had a strong and very slightly rounded jaw, and almost slender face. Thin lips formed in a constant disapproving smirk, and narrow eyes with dark shading beneath that suggested insomnia. He looked ever so slightly effeminate, but those brave enough to say so discovered he had a very masculine wrath.
His features, while vaguely handsome were always overlooked because of his eyes. Dark brown, almost to the point where they could be mistaken for black at a distance. His glare was unsettling at the best of times, people had described it as like looking into an abyss, and seeing something stare back through the gloom. Someone wise had described them as the eyes of some ageless evil trapped in the wrong body, though Livion had always had a touch for the over dramatic.
He was careful not to let his eyes show feeling, feeling was tied to weakness, and weakness was not the quality of a leader.
“You’re getting a lot better Nielus.” Shouted someone from atop the waterfall, snapping Nielus out of his reverie. The voice was light and whimsical, childish even. He was never sure whether that voice was a façade, or whether he really was that carefree despite their lifestyle. He allowed his hearing to strain, catching that odd sound, dancing on the edge of hearing as to be unnoticed to anyone not accustomed to it.
“How long have you been spying on me?” Nielus sighed, allowing a brief snort free. His stance visibly relaxed, neck tilting to look up at the overhanging rock his friend was perched on.
Nielus voice was that of a young adult, but it didn’t seem to fit with his age exactly. He sounded older than he looked, and that odd sound clung to his voice far more than the younger of the pair, his more like the sound of a glass being tapped with a silver spoon.
“Long enough!” Shouted the younger back. A small rounded face leaned over the edge, wide cerulean eyes glistening, and a delicate dimpled jaw and wide mouth jutting out in a pout. Bright blond hair fell down in neat pointed spikes, just about touching the tip of his nose. The hair was tipped with platinum blond, and held back slightly by a strip of dark blue material tied tightly around his forehead.
The pout swapped fluidly to an innocent smirk showing pearly teeth, and bright mischief danced behind his eyes, for which he was known amongst the bandits for. Nielus was annoyed at him for following and expressed this with a cold glare. Lytre was putting his life at risk from demons and from Nielus. If anybody ever walked in on him while he wasn’t in control or worse, during the rare times when his powers were concentrating on uprooting more inhuman abilities then they wouldn’t live to boast about finding out Nielus’ secret, and he doubted enough would be left to determine their fate.
“I’ll jump up to you.” Nielus sighed again, sounded coolly confident albeit a little bored or annoyed with his friend. He was very self-assured despite the size of the rock face before him. He folded his arms scowling at the height he had to jump, he didn’t like being openly supernatural.
He tensed, bending his knees slightly. He curled up for a short moment then rose quickly into a jump, his athletic body stretching like a cat. Fingers moved quickly, gripping rocks and using them to propel himself upward in a fluid movement.
His right hand caught the ledge at the top, and he dangled precariously, the damp from the waterfall making it that much more difficult to grip. He lifted his weight over very quickly, wipping his moss stained fingers on his jacket. He felt a slight light feeling in his thoughts but pushed it away regardless.
The faint dizzying sensation was normal. Dark energy, a raw elemental force of incredible power and destructive decay flowed through his body. Most tainted by it changed, became something else. They looked human at a glance, but deeper inspection would show them as what they were. Nielus was an exception.
In some unique powers flowed through them, and on into their children. Some could bend fire to their will, some could hear the thoughts of others, and sometimes they had more exotic abilities like walking through walls. These bloodlines were powerful, and through one such bloodline Nielus was made immune to darkness’s ill effects.
He was unsure if he was the only one. The bloodlines were beginning to die out. Human fear of magic had lead to mass persecution of those tied to the supernatural.
His earliest memories were of his time in the clan. He had been brought to the clan near death, and in healing his body the memories of the pain and all previous were sealed away and left to fade. Not knowing his name they gave him a new one, and a new life.
His attempts to remember always ended badly. The barrier around his memories apparently had a temper and a sword, he would always wake up after hitting the wall coughing up blood, burning with a near fatal fever, slashed by a sword in the same place every time; across his chest too close to his heart. If he remembered what was lost in his mind his body would remember the injury it too had lost.
“That was a long way to jump.” The childish of the pair looked over the edge just to reconfirm its height, but ducked back battling off a slight vertigo. “Your dark gifts are developing very powerfully.” The child grinned; trying to hide the concern over his best friends supernatural powers and failing as usual. Nielus could read his friends minds through their eyes and facial patterns. It was a habit ingrained from the clans training. It also helped Lytre was too emotionally open, nothing was a secret with him.
Nielus snorted and was preparing another downward glare, being a full head taller than Lytre when he seemed to freeze up. He jerked his head quickly in several directions, clearly seeing something the child could not. He tensed violently, seeming panicked and agitated, almost feral in the way his body acted. Almost like a cornered animal vying for survival. His eyes widened until the colourless black pupils masked the deep brown that ringed it.
“They’re here aren’t they?” The child stammered, darting his head around wildly. He wasn’t sensitive enough to feel the demons presence.
“Yes” answered Nielus coldly. “I can sense them.” The last part was tinted by a slight hiss.
They both simultaneously reach for their swords, the child’s a dull and battered bronze blade in the style of a gladius the weapon of choice for the soldiers of the southern continent, and Nielus’, a shining silvery blue bladed sword with a crescent shaped gold hilt in the style of the precursor kingdoms knights, a style not used for over nine centuries. He glanced at the antique blade, which seemed to twist light around it with a frigid vigour. It was the only thing he had from his first life.
The undergrowth of the forest rustled ominously, the sounds of twigs and foliage being crushed underfoot alerting them both to the presence of demons.
They both stopped moving, breath kept shallow as to avoid blocking the sounds that gave away the demons presence.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Lytre didn’t even think about letting the tension in his body drop.
“They are waiting for us to make a mistake.” Nielus could feel several presences around them, his sensory ability clouded with dark energy, the same that ran in his body.
The movement was quick, five steps in rapid succession then a twisting flick of his sword arm. His sword caught one in the chest, nailing it to a tree.
It was human shaped, though the resemblance ended there. Its outline was human, but it was only textureless black, like a shadow given solid form. It limbs were thinner, longer than a persons, the fingers being pointed and claw like.
It was silent, no growls nor moans, they never made any noise.
Nielus growled very slightly drawing his gums back to expose the wrong teeth. His fanged teeth were longer, curved inwards and pointed, far longer than anything natural.
His twisted the sword. The demon seemed to loose it cohesion, it faded into a black vapour and dissipated. They weren’t alive, not in the normal sense. They were a hive, a single entity that had no purpose. They attacked cities randomly, and killed anything that wandered into their path.
They were considered to be a natural event, like a storm or flood. They caused destruction, couldn’t really be stopped, but once they were gone rebuilding could commence. Cities were walled in as to prevent their access.
Ironically the demons could probably be suppressed indefinitely by magic, but the general populace were against it almost totally. Humans were too driven by superstition and religious dogma. Some arrogantly disregarded magic as being a fairytale leftover from ancient times, the rest believed it was the devils power manifesting itself through evil beings.
It was odd that demons were accepted as common fact, yet magic was something nobody believed in.
“Run. More will follow!” He turned to run, grabbing the child’s blue tunic and forcefully dragging him away from his fight with another creature.
They raced to the edge of the waterfall, but did not stop. They went over the edge without a moments thought. Nielus did a spin in midair so he was facing the monsters. He waved his hand and tapped into the reservoir of dark energy beneath the surface of his body. A ball of purple light formed in his hand, which he threw hard.
It slammed down hard on the area around the creatures. An explosion roared into life and several shards of near molten rock flew upwards with dissolving chunks of shadow demon. Nielus turned again and landed on the front of his feet. Water was thrown up, soaking his legs, but luckily cushioning his fall.
Not far behind, Lytre had rolled when he hit the ground slowing him up and ripping the side of his dark grey pants. Nielus thought for a moment how they had survived the fall so easily, he had the dark gifts as an excuse but Lytre was normal if albeit over curious about the supernatural. Nielus was sure he had given up his claim to…
He snapped back to reality remembering the claws ready to shred him not far behind. His hand began to burn slightly as he ran, he had drawn too much energy too quickly for his current condition, he was risking his life if he used the dark gifts like that again.
The shadow creatures jumped the falls and took pursuit, flowing as a single entity. They usually wouldn’t pursue so adamantly, they were being directed by a Changed general more than likely.
On the rare occasion that a normal person was infected by dark energy two things could happen. The first is they would die, their whole body would fail and die alarmingly fast. The less likely outcome is that they would change, become something other than human. This sub race, simply called the Changed, had the power to command demons amongst other supernatural abilities.
Changed were not without their problems, the transformation only delayed the deadly poisonous effects by a few years. The few Nielus had ever encountered were all pale skinned, with dark hair tones and odd eyes. Their mind were broken and distorted by the darkness, yet they all had what they called the ‘insight’. They claimed the power let them see things so much more clearly, even if it did kill them a little bit faster with every use.
Nielus and Lytre stopped running roughly a mile away. Lytre was red in the face and clutching his sides, while Nielus was not even slightly tired. He formed patterns with his hand out of the boy’s sight.
“Use your magic, to take us, back to the camp, before the shadows, can track us.” wheezed Lytre, trying in vain to regain his breath.
Nielus considered the idea for a moment.
“I’ll try” he replied closing his eyes. He drew magical energy to the surface, regular magical essence and not the dark energy that fuelled his powers. His skin tingled faintly, faint purple haziness hanging just shy of the surface of his body. He shaped it into the spell, focussing on the image of their safe home. A haze of amethyst surrounded them both as Nielus prepared to free the spell to do its purpose. At the same time several shadow creatures charged at them claws at the ready, preparing to kill. Nielus waved his hand blindly, several creatures flew back from the invisible force of the second spell, but many more were closing in. The haze consumed them just as a claw touched the edge of Nielus’ shirt. The demons stopped their assault, they were too late.
A figure in the tree’s dropped down, grey hooded cloak fluttering slightly. His face was covered by a steel mask that looked to be detachable from his helmet.
The camp was set up around the area, filled with the faint buzzing of indistinguishable voices, with the occasional clatter of weapons from the sparing matches.
The trees left deep emerald dapple shade of the half trampled grass. Odd spiked shadows cast over the camp from the jagged rocks on the edge of the crater like clearing.
Nobody in the camp seemed older than sixteen. It was an odd arrangement, a mixture of runaways, young magic users that had fled the few cities for fear of persecution, bandits, thieves, pickpockets, a decent amount of young soldiers who had abandoned their post after being conscripted and the odd few who were better left as unknowns.
Despite having to relocate the camp every few weeks some things never changed, the pine wood smoke in the air, the food being cooked with varying degrees of success, and the occasional metallic hiss of electricity from badly thrown spells and arguing. Nielus let one side of his mouth rise in the lopsided, creepy smiles he was known for. Despite being stuck with such an odd group he was happy. It was chaotic, messy, violent, unpredictable and most of all alive. Nielus had a strong craving for a challenging, different life. He would never allow his life to return to the ways of the Clan.
Lytre noticed the odd expression Nielus wore, and interpreting it as him scheming something backed away quickly. He turned on his heel and headed to the gathering around a small fire where food was being prepared. Nielus saw some of the camps cooks turn to Lytre, with a look of sheer terror.
Lytre could not cook. He had a reputation for turning a meal into a medical disaster. Several of the camps magical healers took notice, quickly reviewing stomach purging spells. Lytre tended to burn anything he touched; including soup on one occasion which brought about a lot of confusion as to how. The crispy sludge had been put under vigorous analyse hoping to find a method to the madness of Lytre’s cooking.
Nielus sniggered a few times, seeing the ripple effect of Lytre.
“Nielus!” A rock hit him in the back, hard. He turned, eyesight going fuzzy momentarily.
Through the blue he could see vivid pink, his mood dropping instantly. He scowled at the over energised girl holding several stones.
“What do you want Nue, I’m busy?” Nielus had no patience for her and never had. He almost felt the need to use his powers on her.
She flicked her long black hair and made an annoyed clucking sound with her tongue, standing on the tips of her boots so that she was of equal height. Her hazel eyes locked onto Nielus’ inches away, trying to be intimidating.
“Miserable as always.” Nue poked him, laughing slightly. He batted her hand away. Her petite mouth twisted into a smirk of what could be called sadistic glee. Nielus poked her back, hard, causing her to lose her balance and fall on her backside. She swore loudly, making several un-lady like gestures before huffing and getting to her feet.
Nielus sometimes thought how it was possible for her to be so juvenile, despite being an accomplished archer, swordswoman, magic wielder of great potential, tactical genius, and capable of wielding any weapon with master skill with little training, all before she was sixteen.
Genius tainted by madness.
“Go annoy Lytre.” Nielus turned to leave. He grinned inwardly, setting the walking collection of annoying habits and boundless energy on the young blond was revenge enough for having followed him. Nue yanked his arm back.
“We start the relocation tomorrow.” She stormed off having swapped from excessively happy to angry without warning. Nielus wondered if Nue was mentally stable, her moods were erratic beyond reason. But then he was no judge, he himself was surely insane from the years of monotony the Unseen clan had bound him to before his escape.
Nielus turned and headed away from the camp, hearing Lytre begin shouting in his normal arrogant way. He wanted to chuckle as he heard a loud thud, a yelp from Lytre and then a snickering Nue.
Nielus took a moment to wonder if any of them were smart enough to look past Lytre’s exterior. There was something else there, Livion had once hinted at it but Nielus never discovered what it was. Nielus could recognise the signs of some sort of suppressed hate or anger; he’d seen them many times before he’d joined the bandits. Lytre was one of the few who hadn’t admitted why he had joined the group, which meant whatever had happened it was from before Lytre had joined.
Nielus laughed in the confines of his mind, Lytre was just as unyielding with information on his past as he was. His thoughts quickly returned to Lytre in pain, causing the corners of his mouth to rise in an almost smile. Nielus had a sadistic streak in him.
Nielus got out of sight, leaning against a tree. He stopped forming the spell he had been using to delay the fatigue and strain of the dark powers. The hand glyphs he had formed earlier were the trigger for the suppression spell.
The vortices of energy in his body had begun to restructure themselves, disrupting everything else in the process. He was hoping his dark powers would finish whatever they were preparing to do soon, so he could stop worrying about his reduced stamina. His body was weak while his powers were building up to an increase. He couldn’t let the bandits know, they would insist on being there for him when it happened, and after the last time where everything within range was destroyed, he doubted letting them near was safe. He had to look strong in front of those he was trusted to keep alive so secrecy was paramount.
His legs gave way and he slumped down with his back against the tree, ignoring the swirling of the world around him. Bile rose in his throat, bitter and acidic. His nostrils were clogged with the small of darkness, his pores leaked the coppery metallic scent whenever he used his powers.
After several minutes and a heavy coughing spell he regained his composure. He straightened his clothing, strolling back to the camp as if nothing was wrong.
The air was beginning to chill, night was fast approaching.
His wandering led him to the heart of the glade, where a ring of badly carved wooden chairs surrounded a small unlit bonfire.
Nielus raised his hand towards the pile of wood summoning yet more magic. A brief tingle and the faint pull of energy from his bones out through the flesh of his hand. Several snake like flames shot from his palm and arced towards the wood. The dried wood roared into life with crackling flames.
Nielus gave it an admiring glance. The wood had been stacked in neat rows, like a funeral pyre, and was burning steadily and hotly. Nielus realised he had an unhealthy fixation with death, which under the circumstances of his past, was not surprising. His morbidity was entirely Leon’s fault.
People began bringing food towards the fire and handing it out, while a large pot of tomato soup was placed near the fire to keep it from cooling. Nielus took a bowl, filled it with steaming hot soup, and dipped some bread into it. Meals were the same affair as always: Lytre would ask about Nielus’ past, he would ignore adamantly, the younger members of the outlaws would ask about his latest ‘clash against unbeatable odds’ and he would tell them what really happened, not what Lytre’s ego wanted to have happened. Nielus enjoyed deflating the blond loudmouth’s ego, although he didn’t show it openly. He rarely ever opened up to anyone emotionally, not that they would understand what it felt like to have the magical equivalent of pure evil running through their body and mind.
The few who knew how to deal with his powers were his enemies now. Nielus’ betrayal had made him an enemy of clan Unseen, and one of the few people who could stand as his equal in combat.
It was of his greatest regrets, losing Meytaal. The Phantom-Alchemist was so similar to him, they understood each other’s inner working intimately.
After the meal everybody shuffled, sleepily towards their tents in the last of the twilight. Nielus did his usual patrols, to make sure the shadow creatures or the royal guard were not going to try a night ambush. The darkness set in quickly, which was fine for Nielus.
As the light faded the world became monochrome. Nielus supernatural eyes saw in the dark with only black, white and grey. He could see colour too if he added more energy, but it was hard to maintain a steady flow whilst looking out for Deltian soldiers or demons.
Eventually someone showed up to swap patrols with him, a blonde haired girl with two curved swords, she looked eight years old at most but talked and acted like a teenager. She avoided looking at Nielus’ eyes, the pupils had grown to consume the colour as it always did when dark power flowed.
The girls talking got Nielus thinking about his past. He turned and trudged to his tent, past the grey ash and smouldering embers of the long dead fire. He didn’t actually feel tired; fatigue and even sleep for him felt more like a bad habit that had yet to be shaken off. Eating was the same; he never really seemed hungry.
It was the Clan and its cursed power, it had left him unable to function as a normal person.
Nielus approached his tent, it being made of beige canvas held up by copper rods, lined with some kind of animal fur.
He opened the tent flap, stripped off his sword and shirt lying down on the thick blanket to sleep.
His best guess was that his mind was becoming corrupt, a slow process. He could feel it wrapping around his thoughts every time he used its power, like a mist clouding him slowly.
The dreams were always the same, his mirror image would fight him and he would lose to it.
The Shadow as he had named it was exactly like him, though a different version of him.
His eyes were emotive, they seemed bright and happy, a creature led by its heart rather than its mind. This combined by its violent temperament made it lash out more than Nielus would. The eyes changed a lot, sometimes they were purple, others red, sometimes even black. The pupils were never the same colour from night to night, this night they were red, the iris being black.
Its appearance was neater, more orderly and refined. It was the epitome of aesthetics, not a hair out of place.
Nielus lunged forward swinging wildly, deciding quickly to get their fight out of the way. Shadow stepped to the side idly, seeming to not take the fight seriously. Nielus swung again, and Shadow blocked it. He pulled back and swung down several times. Shadow pulled back the sword and swung underarm at Nielus. He deflected but the force threw him backwards. Nielus swung horizontally just as he began flying back. Shadow ducked and leaped forward. He hit the ground and rolled, but regained steady footing just as Shadow was going to sever his head. Nielus stabbed forwards, but missed. Shadow ducked in and punched Nielus in the jaw. He then drew his blade back and hit him in the left ribs with the flat side cracking several of them. Nielus collapsed, coughing blood across the plain, black floor of his nightmare realm. Shadow rolled him onto his back with his foot and smirked. He stepped down heavily on Nielus’ chest, stopping him from moving. Nielus squirmed in an attempt to escape but Shadow pushed down harder, straining the broken ribs. Shadow drew back the blade, examining the tip with mild curiosity then swung it slowly so the point was pressed above Nielus’ heart. The tip of the blade shallowly pierced the flesh. Nielus cried out. Shadow dug it just deep enough to hold it in place. Nielus hadn’t the energy to fight, so just waited. Shadow held the blade hilt tightly in his right hand with the left over the top of the hilt. He laughed, drew his weight up and pushed it all down through the blade positioned over Nielus’ heart.
The pain subsided and Nielus entered a dead sleep devoid of dreams.
“You are far from ready, it’s a shame really, I hate having to do this to you.”