Blood flowed along the single edge of his sword, tracing the intricate design of the blade before dripping off the tip and pooling on the floor.

The smell of iron, burned fur, hair and flesh wafted through the air.

The distinctive smell of a battlefield.

A smell he had grown so used to.

A smell that had felt so alien at first.

In the distance, a cacophony of sounds played a dreadful symphony.

A concert of steel clashing, arrows slicing through the air and sizzling Mana searching for intended targets. Angry barks and dying howls intermixed, joining the melody of death and destruction.

His eyes surveyed the chamber. The walls were covered in blood, guts and scorch marks. Almost nothing remained of the majestic marble or the beautiful banners.

Only white patches on the wall, hidden beneath soot and gore, and ashes on the ground, lifted up and carried away by a gentle breeze, were a reminder of its lost beauty.

Fire-pans lay overturned on the floor, scattering ash and kindling into their surroundings, setting blood-soaked robes and broken vials of oil on fire, basking the room in flickering light.

Among the many corpses were enemies and allies alike, most already having stopped breathing. Some still lay dying.

His attention never truly left his target, lurking behind the altar, its hate-filled gaze locked on him.

A low growling laugh, originating from the figure, filled the air.

It drew to its full height, reaching close to two meters. Glistening scales and bulging muscles were visible through the frayed sleeveless robe. The many emblems and ampoules adorning its armored chest shook in response to its laughter.

A dark hood hid the face, only a pair of bull’s horns, etched with a spiraling pattern, poked out from beneath.

Two glowing green orbs glared at him, in stark contrast to the dark shadow masking its features, pulsating in rhythm with the snickering laugh.

The long serrated blade in the creature’s hand reflected the ambient light, its tip pointed at him threateningly.

Still, his posture was relaxed, the curved, one-edged sword practically dangling from his right hand, his fingers gripping the handle gently.

Small orbs of Mana surrounded his empty left hand. The glowing balls of energy pulsated in a steady rhythm, almost as if alive, waiting for a command to obey, a wish to fulfill.

A voice echoed in the large chamber, a mixture of different sounds combined into a inharmonious melody. Low growling beneath a myriad of voices, accompanied by dissonant strings, spoken with one mouth. Amusement, annoyance and fury were mixed into the tone of the uttered words.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“So you have made your way here … ”

This world had offered him many wonders. Awe-inspiring sights. Creatures straight out of fairy tales, landscapes putting any painter to shame and structures that would astonish the most ingenious architects.

And it had also given him many things. Powerful artifacts, like the sword in his hand and the armor that he wore. Like the medallion around his neck.

Granted him awesome powers.

Control over Mana.

Spells.

Yes, Magic.

Even...

“So, the one known as Siúlóir has come to destroy me?”

Yes, even his name.

A gift from this place. The world he had woken up in. It had offered him solace in his confusion,unsure of how he had gotten there, from where he came, and who he had been before.

He wanted to see much more.

So first, he had to protect its peace.

He allowed himself a moment to remember.

Remember how it all started.

That small clearing in the woods, where he first woke up ...

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Don't worry if this prologue leaves you a slightly confused. It's meant to. I'm trying to rouse the reader's interest, hoping that he (the reader) would be interested in finding out who these characters are, and how this situation came about.

I would appreciate it, if you could leave a comment below, just to let me know what you think, and if there's something I should add or edit.

This is pretty much the first original story I've 'published' online, and while I do write mostly to satisfy my own need, I would like to reach you, the reader, and give you something you're interested in, and wish to find out more

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