Prologue: Prophecy

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Hallo. This is my alternative beginning two. My original beginning isn't really done yet, but I'll finish it sometime soon. Enjoy! (and R&R if you have time.)

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His hands scrambled frantically over the vials, searching for the right potion. One vial crashed to the ground, the orange liquid sizzling and burning a hole in the floor. The innkeeper wouldn’t be too happy about that. But those kind of menial matters were unnecessary—all that counted was that he find the right vial. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead while the footsteps drew closer.

The man cursed. The potion wasn’t with the others. He scanned the room, from the messy bed to the ratty carpet and his knapsack. Pausing for a moment to listen to the approaching person, the man unearthed the contents of the knapsack. Half-eaten foods and scrolls tumbled over his shoulder, but no vial, only traveling supplies. The candle on his nightstand suddenly flickered out, enveloping him in darkness. He wandered blindly through the room, trying to feel for the potion. The footsteps came to a stop outside his door. Too late, he would have to jump out the window! He began to unlatch the window when a voice came from the other side of the door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the cold voice said.

The man threw up the window and thrust one of his legs out, but the door suddenly slammed open, and, with one quick swish of a wrist, a dagger lodged itself in one of the man’s calves. He screamed out in agony and fell backward onto the floor, clutching his leg and moaning. The dark figure in the doorway shifted and the man assumed it was sneering. It closed the door, its cloak flickering around him, crafted of the finest silk.

“Why… why are you doing this?” the man asked, whimpering and searching for some kind of weapon.

The figure approached the men and knelt so that its mouth was right by his ear. “You know what I’m looking for.” The words curled around the man’s head, feathery yet spiked at the same time. It looked out the window toward the bright moon that shown in an overcast sky, illuminating the dreary landscape of Cross City. Just enough light filtered between the curtains that the injured man could see the creatures face. A face he never thought he’d see again. There was something different about his face though… it seemed more vicious, colder, and more… sinister.

The creature shook its head slightly and rummaged in its cloak producing a green vial. The man gasped and tried to grip the potion but the creature laughed and threw it behind him, the unstable liquid burning yet another hole in the floor.

It stopped laughing. A slimy hand grasped the man’s chin.

“Where are they?”

“I…” The man choked. “I don’t know…”

The thing hissed and gripped the man’s throat tighter. “I know you know where they are. Save yourself some misery. Where are they?”

Some people shouted downstairs. The innkeeper had noticed the holes in the ceiling. The thing hissed again and plunged a dagger in the man’s chest, directly over the heart. “Tell me!” it shouted, not caring who heard now.

The man had already lost a good portion of blood, his face ashen, his life dwindling, and it took all his strength just to gasp out response. “One… one is… already in your grasp… you know who he is.” The man’s eye rolled back into his head. “Kin of the royal line, son of a deceased empire… lost…”

Hissing, the creature shook the man’s head. “Where is the other?”

“The other… the other is… blood… magic…” The man breathed in sharply and his chest heaved, “mountains… protected… can’t see through very clearly… dying…”

“Where?”

But the man was dead, his heart stopped, his breath stale. The creature spat disgustedly on the man’s remains and looked out at the moon. Smiling cruelly, he shattered the window with just one glance and flew out into the night, a raven with the eye of evil born onto its crown.

It wouldn’t be much longer.

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