Prologue- The Beginning of a Curse
The eerie silence in the rusty air hung heavily on Mirth's old shoulders as she tried to heal the warrior who lied before her. His tired eyes were closed, and his heart's beat slowed to the rhythmic dance of the still air. Deep wounds covered his pale, painted chest, gashes ripped down his arms, and s single scar stripped across his right eye. The old witch gave a sorrowful sigh as she tossed her healing herbs across the dirt floor, the sound echoed through the small hut. The brave warrior before her was dying, and yet he was one of the many that did not deserve to die, as he fought bravely for his beloved land. Mirth lifted her wrinkled face and let the small moonbeams stream across her face, and place her soft hands on the man's chest. A small, but faint heartbeat answered her plea, however the elder knew it wasn't enough to live for.
Mirth's ministrations were interrupted by a young lad, who rushed into the hut, wearing a mask of grave fear. His shaggy, dark brown was rusted with old blood, and his blue eyes showed his true identification to the broken warrior at Mirth's feet. She looked at him silently, and slowly shook her head.
"Please," the man begged as he clutched Mirth by her shoulders, "Isn't there anything you can do for my brother!" Mirth looked at the man before her, and then slowly let her face fall.
"He will live for awhile, but not enough to live with us. Your twin brother right now is at the judging place."
"But your one of the last, and one of the best! There must be something you can do!" The man cried out. He looked at his brave brother, "We would have lost to the Saxons if it wasn't for him," the man croaked out.
Mirth looked at him with strong pity, but then focused at the warrior. His face was at a rare peace, even with the drastic injuries that decorated his body with a fury of a terrible storm. Yet, Mirth thought herself, perhaps this storm can bring life, peace, security.
She quickly turned to the well twin. "There is something I can do," she began quietly. The man looked up at her, his youthful eyes filled with a golden, vivid hope. She laid her soft hands across the dying man, and whispered gently with a cold warmness, " It will be more than what your brother asked for. It will be a duty; he will become a endless warrior, not only bound by a vow of words that are not his own, but by the land and the moon, which will be his true masters."
"Please, anything. Yes, I accept," the man pleaded to Mirth.
She looked at the man, doubt filled every bone, "Are you sure?" she asked, "Do you truly understand what will happen? He will no longer be your twin, not even your brother. His blood will change, his thoughts will be ruthless as he will become one of the feared."
The man nodded his head gravely, "My brother deserves to live."
"As do many others."
Mirth sighed and closed her eyes. A storm would come, she was sure, and what a terrible storm it will be! Yet, Mirth knew forests, rivers, the land, all needed the heavy rain to be able to bloom meadow flowers, endless green hills, and clear starry nights. "Alright," she whispered in a thick voice, "I will do it. Your twin will live. For tonight, and tomorrow night, until the moon sheds her blood across the sky and is no more, is when, and only when, you brother will depart this life."
A/N: Alright, some of my readers, might notice that i first made a poem of this, but one of my loyal, Narq, (haha pun! ) reviewers suggested into making it a story.... so i've suggested giving it a shot.
and oh, since now it's summer, i'll have more time to update!! yay!!!!! don't you love writing? such a fascinating expierences it leaves you.