Dark Hand Dark Hand

An original work by the Storm Angel

Authors notes: I believe that everybody has a dark side to them, an exact opposite to what they show on the outside. This story is about my role-playing character Tempest, and how he battles his own dark side – the Dark Hand. Enjoy.

Chapter One – The game of life

Tempest looked out over his kingdom, the land of Trivadia. He sensed his wife behind him, her Sorceress powers alerting him before she entered the room. He turned, his blue eyes locking into her green eyes. She smiled at him for a moment. That smile always managed to calm him, and that was what he loved most about Rebecca Angelheart, her beautiful smile and sweet, soothing voice. If music could calm the fury of the beast, then Rebecca's voice was the music that calmed the fury of the beast within Tempest, the beast known as the Dark Hand. He could feel him rising within him again, like black oil spoiling the deep blue sea with its filth.

"What's wrong?" Rebecca asked, walking up to him and placing her hand on his shoulder. The feeling of her soft touch made Tempest smile for a moment, something that did not happen often anymore.

"Nothing," he said. But he knew that it was a lie; he could feel the Dark Hand's thirst for the blood rising within him. He could feel the Dark Hand's urge to kill Rebecca, the one that had sealed him away in the first place. Tempest suddenly backed away from Rebecca, afraid of what the Dark Hand might do to her if he managed to take control. Rebecca's smile instantly disappeared when she realised what was happening.

"He's trying to take control again, isn't he?" she asked. Tempest looked away and nodded.

"Ever since my Archangel powers manifested themselves, he's been trying to gain control of me so that he could kill again. I'm scared, Rebecca."

Rebecca hugged him. "Be strong, Samuel," she said. She felt her husband shudder, he had not been called by his birth name for nearly 600 years, and she was the only one who ever called him Samuel. Tempest closed his eyes.

"Rebecca, if the Dark Hand takes control, he'll come after you," he said.

"I know," came the reply. "He wants to kill me because I was the one that sealed him away before, and I'm the only one who knows the spell that can do it again."

Tempest suddenly broke their embrace and stepped closer to the window. "I have to leave," he said. Rebecca only nodded in understanding; her husband was a good man, despite everything that Fate had put him through.

"I understand," she said. "Be careful."

Tempest nodded and jumped from the window, landing safely on the ground ten-story's down. The jump would have killed a normal man, but Tempest from far from normal. He was an Archangel, one of the most powerful beings in existence. He could survive in space, in the middle of a sun about to implode, or even powerful magic. But Rebecca was not sure if he could survive a battle against the darkness that lurked within him.

"Be safe, Samuel."

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Tempest stopped running when he reached Dragon Mountain. This place was considered hallowed ground by the dragons that once lurked here. The mountain was large and dark, its crimson red soil causing the rocks to take on the appearance that they were covered in blood. It was, in fact, a dormant volcano, which was why the dragons had chosen it to be their shrine to their lord: Titus. Titus himself had been defeated over 700 years ago, way before Tempest's time. Odd, considering that Trivadians lived for up to 5000 years, never growing a day older than 25. At least Fate had seen fit that they would remain young until the day they died. Or perhaps she had decided that having a race of humans that could live for 5000 years would be good entertainment. Tempest did not know, or care, as he did not believe in Fate. He chose his own destiny, or did he? His former teacher and friend, also an Archangel, had told him that he had been destined to become an Archangel and fight evil alongside him. Tempest almost smiled. Almost, because he sensed something, or someone, coming at him from behind at high speeds. He jumped into the air at the last minute and landed behind his attacker. The person stopped and turned around. She was raven-haired, grey-eyed and beautiful. She wore jet-black clothing and carried a katana on her back and several shurikens were placed on black belts in a criss-cross shape on her chest. A ninja. They stood there for what seemed like hours, staring at each other and waiting for one to attack the other. Finally, Tempest spoke.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Kitania Gaziela of the Crimson Dragon Society," replied the ninja. "And you are intruding on our territory."

Tempest gritted his teeth. "Great," he thought. "I'm being confronted by a member of the society that wants me dead more than any of my other enemies. That's just fucking great."

Tempest did not normally swear, not unless he felt that the situation truly called for it. At least the ninja did not know who he was, yet. Better keep it that way.

"Fine, I'll leave," he said, turning away. He turned back and caught the shuriken aimed at his neck.

"Don't." he warned. "Well, she knows who I am."

The ninja did not listen; she took her katana from her back and charged him. As she approached, she raised the blade above her head, and when she was right in front of him, she brought it down with enough force to cut through titanium. Tempest instinctively raised his arm. The katana struck the gauntlet that was there and shattered like glass. The gauntlet was made from a mineral called Lunastar; a magical substance that could reflect magic and regenerate itself. This particular mixture of Lunastar and a magically strong substance called Neo-Mithrill was nearly indestructible, and could not be harmed by normal weapons. The ninja cursed as her blade shattered, and decided to fight hand-to-hand instead. She rushed him and used a blitz attack that a normal human would not be able to block, but Tempest was an Archangel, and blocked every single punch and kick that Kitania threw at him. He stepped behind her and brought his elbow down onto her back, hard. She grunted and fell to the ground, unconscious. Tempest turned to leave, but something stopped him. It was something dark and evil, and it was inside of him. The Dark Hand was trying to take control of him again, but Tempest fought. He heard a voice within his mind. The voice was raspy and aggressive.

"Why fight me, Samuel?" it said. "I will win in the end, I always do."

"NO!" Tempest replied mentally. "I won't let you hurt Rebecca!"

The voice laughed. "And what makes you think that I want her? She is but a player in this game called life, just like you. She has nothing that interests me."

Tempest scowled. "Then what do you want?"

The Dark Hand gave no reply, and Tempest was again at peace with himself. He left just as Kitania woke up, moaning from the sudden pain in her back.

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The Evil Dead Forest once inhabited by hordes of undead monsters. Now, it was empty, and it was the perfect place to sit and think, which is exactly what Tempest was doing while he was leaning against a tree, long dead and threatening to collapse at any moment.

"The game of life? Who would be cruel enough to consider other people's lives as mere games?" he thought. "Of course, Fate."

Fate. The maniacal bitch that had pitted him up against some of the most evil and powerful creatures in existence, and had almost succeeded in killing him more than once. Tempest looked up at the sky and let out a deep breath. He had said more than once that he did not believe in Fate, and yet she kept on making herself known by putting him and the people that he loved in danger. And now, she was toying with him again. Only this time, she was pitting him against himself, just to see if he could over come his dark side.

"DAMN YOU TO HADES, FATE!" he screamed. "DAMN YOU AND ALL OF YOUR SADISTIC GAMES!"

Of course, nobody answered. Fate rarely took on a physical form, instead she would send in her 'Hand' to speak on her behalf. As if summoned by some sort of witches spell, somebody stepped out from behind the trees. He was tall, blonde and green-eyed. He wore blood red armour and carried a sword at his side. This was the Hand of Fate, Gavial.

"Gavial," said Tempest. "What do you want?"

Gavial looked at him. "You really shouldn't insult Fate like that, she has a really nasty temperament," he said.

"And she shouldn't be playing games with people's lives," snapped Tempest. Gavial said nothing, and disappeared into the woods. Tempest sighed; this was turning into one hell of a bad day.