Prophesy of Fire - Song of Chaos

verse 1

Where virtue is hold, a man so fair,

With a heart of gold, and soul so rare,

He lived a life of kind and light,

A shining beacon in the dark of night.

Chp 1.1 - When Chaos Burns: Innocence

-Marsh and Terra-

Marsh had gotten a head start, a single chance to get away. Terra had barely reached his room in time, taking a quick glance out into the soot-covered hallway. She grabbed his arm, urgency and fear mingling in her grip.

“Come with me, they’re on their way!” Terra whispered anxiously, her voice trembling as she dragged him toward the empty servants' quarters beside his room.

Marsh’s heart pounded heavily, and the mark on his hand started to itch as he fumbled to reach his sword—a worn hand-me-down from Kyllian, the only gift his father had given him. Terra took another discreet look through the doorway. The dimly lit hall was punctuated with torches stretching all the way down the corridor, casting eerie shadows on the cold, soot-salted floor. The distant footsteps of the kingsguard rapidly grew louder, as the danger approached.

With little time to waste, Terra pulled Marsh into the dim corridor. The urgency was palpable, making it clear that Terra’s motherly instinct could be trusted. Marsh cast a last glance back toward his room, not yet knowing what had initiated his hunt. Given the king’s resentment toward him, Terra’s intervention was a lifeline, a brief respite from the chaos that was about to consume them.

What are you planning, Terra? Merryl wondered, anxiously trying to anticipate her next move.

Terra pulled Marsh further down the hallway, their steps muffled as they ran. They rounded a corner to hide just as harsh shouts erupted from Marsh's room. “He’s not here!? Scatter! Find him!”

Terra halted abruptly, pressing her back against the wall with a shaky breath. She offered Marsh a reluctant smile, seeing her little boy in this dire situation and reminiscing about all the times she had let him down. Being born with the Mark of Sjael had made people fear and ostracize him. Her heart ached with the weight of past failures, but today, she vowed to protect him at any cost.

“We will figure this out,” Terra said firmly, trying to mask her fear with a serene facade. “Stay close to me, Marsh.” Yet her expression was overshadowed by the tension of the situation, revealing the depth of her concern.

They crept down the corridor when their escape was suddenly threatened again. Voices and torchlight were quickly approaching from further ahead. Terra fumbled with the lock of a nearby room, her old skills as a lockpicker coming in handy. She managed to quietly open the door, leading Marsh into the unused guestrooms. They crawled under the bed inside, holding their breath as the footsteps and light moved past the closed door.

“What is going on?” Marsh finally whispered, his words barely above a breath. Terra, barely visible in the dim light, took a moment to answer. He deserves to know, Merryl insisted, affirming that he should know the truth no matter how frightening it might be.

“The queen,” she began, her voice slightly shaking. “She... she has died.” Terra’s gaze remained fixed on the door. Marsh, confused, took another few seconds to absorb the weight of the queen's death. Terra’s usual soothing demeanor was replaced with a stark resolve. Marsh, seeing his mother pushed to the edge like this, put things into perspective. This... this was real!

“Dead?” Marsh asked. “What does that have to do with me?” Her death was surprising to him, given her youth.

“Yes... murdered,” Terra explained, feeling the hard rock floor pressing against her stomach. “King Malachite is convinced you are responsible, and Craft has done little to refute him.” she added. Her voice lingered in Marsh’s mind: Even now, Craft would not stand up for me.

Marsh took a few deep breaths to calm himself, having never expected to be accused of something like that. He glanced at the closed door, which offered safety from the chaos outside. With a deep breath, he crawled out from beneath the bed.

“But why me?” Marsh asked, bewildered, getting up from his knees “I've done nothing!” He proclaimed as Terra emerged as well, creating a long, black, dusty stain on her otherwise white gown. She pointed to his hand with a glaring nod.

“It’s- your mark,” she said quietly. “I didn’t see her myself, but apparently, her entire body looked like, you know, your arm.” Marsh looked down at his hand, gently caressing his deep red-brown mark branded by the god of discord. Being branded by Sjael had also marked him as an outcast. People feared his future deeds foretold by the prophecy of fire, which terrified anyone who might have sought a relationship with him, making them grow cold and distant to him.

“But…” Marsh began but was abruptly cut off.

They’re back, HIDE! Merryl warned Terra through their shared mind, urging them to remain silent. Instinctively Terra moved behind Marsh, covering his mouth as the footsteps outside grew louder. Terra leaned in behind him, softly whispering.

“I know,” she was already aware of how the curse-mark had impacted him throughout his life; this was the exact reason why her determination to protect him was unwavering, even if it meant facing the dangers ahead.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door, permanently halting their conversation. Terra pulled Marsh in close, embracing him tightly, cherishing this last moment of togetherness before flinging him against the wall embracing herself for what is to come, just as the door opened, hiding Marsh behind it.

-Kyllian and Craft-

As Marsh and Terra struggled to evade detection, snow began falling in broad ashen flakes, settling into the thick, chilly dunes that covered the courtyard of Nullflare Cathedral. Kyllian was training his divine swordsmanship, unaware of the peril his family faced.

The setting sun cast its last rays, reflecting a pale golden glow on the dwindling snow, illuminating their path as they drifted down. Kyllian’s center shifted as he observed their golden flow, predicting where they were going. He carefully unsheathed his sword, spreading out his weight, feeling the cold snow compress under his shoes.

Snow gathered like dark-iced clumps in Kyllian's hair, causing a shadow contrast against his pale golden glow. His blood pulsed through his body, each thrum fueled him with life, giving him more energy, more heat, more resolve, shielding him from the cold environment. He expanded his perception, to absorb the energies around him, just as leaves do the sun. With a swift motion, his spirit was released through his body. I see them! His eyes flew open as divine light surged through his body, creating a tiny lightning spark springing from his left eye.

As Kyllian yelled out his sword sliced through the air, cleaving the heavy soot-crystals with elegance and precision. The young kitchen maids, infatuated, watched from behind an half-opened door. His body radiated heat, melting not only the maids' hearts but also the gray falling flakes. His clothes, drenched in murky water from the melted snow, began to slow his movements just as the stamina drained from his body.

With heavy breaths and a brisk, beating heart, Kyllian was completely unfazed by the cold. The icy flakes in his hair had liquified, leaving a cloudy trail of water down to his brow. Kyllian wiped the residue from his sword before his attention was caught by the cathedral's gateway.

“You have improved, Kyllian,” Craft’s calm voice rang with authority from the cathedral entrance. He remained within the warm cathedral walls, reluctant to step into the cold. His battle-worn face was covered in deep shadows from the sentinel's torch, his appearance like a mirror reflecting the cold outside.

“Thank you, Father. I won’t disappoint you” Kyllian stiffly replied, straightening his posture in an effort to match his father’s, refusing to end up like Marsh, who was shunned by all.

“I know you won't,” Craft said, his voice reassuring ”Your magnificence has already been promised by Null's all-knowing flame!” waving Kyllian closer, still reluctant to enter the cold himself , covering Kyllian with his arm, leading them inside the cathedrals humid warmth.

“There has been- let's say, an incident,” Craft deliberately chose his words as his eyes remained focused on his destination ahead. He explained the queen's tragic passing and how the grieving king had blamed his brother for this tragic event, as she was found with a brand like Marsh’s.

“Your brother will only make things worse, so I need you to make him follow along- quietly!” Craft finished, revealing Kyllian's role in the unfolding events. Kyllian took a moment to himself, processing the task.

Marsh had an uncanny tendency to end up in disastrous situations, though his noble intentions were undeniable. His behavior still too often dragged everyone around him down with him.

Kyllian considered refusing, thinking it might teach Marsh a lesson, but the potential consequences with an unpredictable king like Malachite were far too severe, ultimately leading him to the conclusion to protect his brother, even if it meant standing up to a king.

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“I’ll get him to follow along,” Kyllian said, his tone even, his resolve unwavering. contradicting the uncomfortable amount of time it took him to answer.

Their conversation concluded just as a Kingsguard abruptly appeared from around a corner. He tried to meet Kyllian’s eyes respectfully but receives no acknowledgment as Kyllian completely avoids his gaze.

“Why are you not following your orders? Get back there!” Craft snaps, his frustration evident

“I’m sorry, Godsend! But it seems like he’s not in his chambers. We have already sent out-”

“HE IS GONE!? How hard can it be to lock down a single kid?” Craft roared, his anger palpable, before taking a second to calm himself down. “Just start in his chambers, find any trace that might lead us to him,” Craft’s orders echo through the empty halls as he turns to find guidance from Null's flame burning in the inner sanctum. A cold shiver ran down through Kyllian’s spine, a hint towards how heavy the task would become. He shared a worried glance with the guard, before heading toward Marsh’s room.

-sentinel-

The sentinel retraced his steps through the dimly lit corridors, each movement a stark reminder of the relentless agony seared into his spine. The ice-covered metal rod, embedded deep within him, emitted a searing, cold sensation, as though a thousand frosty needles scraped his nerves. It was a tormenting chill that gnawed at his sanity, the cold searing pain almost tangible in its intensity.

The agony was more than just physical; it was an invasive torment that seeped into his thoughts and twisted them with every step he took. The world outside felt distant and abstract, overshadowed by his visceral suffering. His mind was consumed by the relentless pain and a singular focus on revenge. The thought of Varik’s head triumphantly displayed over his bed—a grim trophy of his vengeance—brought a twisted satisfaction to his face.

Endurance became his mantra, a necessary torment to achieve his goals. For now, the agony was his constant companion, the first spike a mere precursor to what was to come. He steeled himself for the future spikes, his resolve hardening with each pulse of cold pain. Every jolt of agony was a step closer to his ultimate revenge, a price he was willing to pay for the power he sought.

A thin wisp of smoke curls down from the spike, beautifully trailing down behind him—a grim reminder of the humanity he had sacrificed, now trapped in ice—lightly floating over the stone floor before slipping down between the cracks. He needs a distraction, any distraction.

As he walked down the empty corridor, his thoughts were interrupted by a faint noise. Something sliding across the floor, his senses struggling to pinpoint the source, as they have not fully settled. A faint sense of anticipation replaced his usual detachment. One of the voices sounded female, adding to his curiosity. He slowly pushed the door open, savoring the moment like the unwrapping of a gift.

-Marsh, Terra and the sentinel-

Marsh, having just been thrown against the wall by Terra, both now stood, with their senses heightened by the tension that filled the air. The room dimly lit from the light escaping from under the door, casting long shadows on the faded wallpaper, enhancing the darkness in the room. The atmosphere was thick with unease and offered no comfort.

She instinctively pushed Marsh without thinking, placing herself face to face with a man who was colder than the icy spike protruding from his back. Her body quivered with panic as Merryl urged her to flee. Run, Terra. None of you stand a chance against a sentinel. The sentinel's eyes swept over her like a cold, wheezing wind chillingher to the bone, like a predator toying with its prey.

Terra stood in front of the bed, her stained nightgown clinging damply to her trembling skin. The sentinel swept inefficiently around the room before locking back onto her. A sleazy smile crept across his face as he glared down at her body, stepping closer into her personal space.

“My Lady, why aren’t you back in your quarters?” he mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Marsh and Terra were both paralyzed with fear; anyone would be if confronted by a sentinel. Marsh couldn't help but stare at the frigid spike piercing the sentinel's back, watching as a thin trail of white mist curled down behind him.

“I- I’m trying to sleep, as you can see,” Terra stammered with a shaking voice. “Something happened at the cathedral; it’s very noisy this evening”. Terra had been raised in a distant land, where titles and wealth had little meaning. Being the daughter of a high druid, Terra had never grown accustomed to lies and deceit, so her guile had never been sharpened.

The sentinel, however, mistook her dishonesty for fear, a sign of her submission to him. His eyes lingered on her chest, as his hands clamped onto her hip as though she were his possession.. Merryl's frantic cries Run, run, run echoed in her mind, amplifying the terrifying situation.

“So,” he drawled, his intent clear in his lecherous smile, “Do you need any help with that?—Sleeping, I mean.”

Marsh felt a wave of revulsion. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing. He knew that Kyllian's swordsmanship was better suited for dealing with a sentinel, but right now, he had only his own skills to rely on. He had to act; he had to at least try. Moving slowly out from behind the door, Marsh’s palms were slick with sweat as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

Each step closer was a battle against his fear, forcing himself forward, step by step, afraid that his heartbeat would be heard.

Finally, he stood behind the sentinel, not realizing the creature's sheer size until that moment. Marsh raised the sword with both hands, ignoring Terra's silent pleas to stop. She shivered and shook her head, but Marsh found himself strangely calm, his emotions numbed. He swung with all his might, aiming for the creature's neck. The sentinel spun in anger from the impact, no pain worse than the one he was already in. The force resulted in the sword being flung across the room, leaving only a shallow wound.

Its gaze bore down on Marsh, its rage unmistakable. A normal man would have fallen to such an attack, but this was no ordinary man. Blood began to seep into the sentinel's uniform, but the monstrous figure remained standing. Terror gripped Marsh. Fighting his paralysis, he managed to stumble backwards.

“I… I—” Marsh stuttered, unable to find his words, unprepared for what came next. The sentinel advanced, growling with fury.

“RUUUUUUN!” Terra screamed, snapping Marsh back to reality. He turned to flee, but the sentinel was faster, grabbing his neck and slamming him down to the floor. The sentinel loomed over him, its grip tightening around his throat. It unsheathed a wicked twin-hook, a weapon designed to flay flesh. Terra screamed, desperately pleading, trying to shield Marsh with her own body, but the sentinel effortlessly swiped her aside. Marsh met the sentinel’s eyes and saw nothing but sadistic joy and utter lack of mercy. Fuck was the last word going through his head as the sentinel swung its weapon.

I’m here! Merryl’s voice echoed through Terra’s mind as the weapon came swinging down with a loud clunk, missing Marsh’s head by mere inches. A small red and white panda, no bigger than a large cat, had launched itself at the sentinel's face. Its claws furiously digging into the sentinels flesh as it scratched away. Merryl acted without hesitation, flailing and evading the sentinel’s grasp as he swung his weapon.

“MERRYL, NO!” Terra yelled, recognizing the danger her companion was in. Get him out of here! Merryl commanded, her focus unwavering as she danced around the sentinels' attacks, her agility and sharp mind on full display. She wasn't trying to strike; she was trying to mislead, to confuse weaving herself in between the sentinel's massive strikes—a tactic she executed with precision.

“I’ll rip you apart, you filthy rat!” the sentinel bellowed, sweeping at Merryl with imposing hands, his weapon hitting the ground with a clang. She deftly dodged each blow with agile grace. Leaping onto the sentinels back, she grasped the icy spike protruding it. NOW! Merryl’s mental command pierced through Terra's thoughts again. Her red, furry form radiated determination and frustration as the cold seared her paws. forcing her to let go, but not before she glanced back at Terra urging her to act.

Terra, driven by Merryl's fierce instinct to protect-ignoring her pleads-snatched Marsh’s sword from the floor with newfound determination. She would rather die than lose Merryl. She charged at the sentinel, the sword raised high, screaming as she swung with all her might. But the sentinel easily deflected her attack, knocking her aside and sending her crashing to the floor at Marsh’s feet.

Marsh, having regained his footing, helped Terra up and retrieved his sword, realizing this might be their last chance. He lowered his stance, preparing for a final assault. The sentinel, their eyes locked onto him, filled with fury, as it swung a powerful fist. Marsh braced himself for the blow, but Merryl leaped back onto the sentinel's face clawing its eyes. Her nimble movements caused the sentinel to lose its balance following his own blow, crashing it into a nearby wall, instead of hitting Marsh. The force of the impact lodged its fist firmly into the pale wallpaper, resulting in him staggering and becoming momentarily disoriented. This was the opening Marsh needed, and with the surge of adrenaline, he dashed forward with focus.

Seizing the opportunity, Marsh thrust his sword upward with all his strength, just as the sentinel freed himself from the rocks, driving the sword through the sentinel's jaw, severing its tongue on the way out, through his mouth. Blood sprayed out as the sentinel’s movements ceased, its furious gaze cast one last ominous look down on Marsh before fading as it collapsed to the ground, defeated.

We have to run, now! Merryl urged, glaring at Terra.

“No, get him to safety! I’ll try and buy some time,” Terra said firmly, amidst the discord surrounding them. Merryl reluctantly agreed and sprinted towards the door.

“Follow her,” Terra instructed Marsh, her voice surprisingly steady given the circumstances “She will lead you to safety. I’ll take care of things here.”

“But—” Marsh tried protesting.

“No buts,” Terra cut him off, not allowing him to argue. “Just go." Someone must have heard us by now; they’ll be here any second. Run!” Marsh was torn, wanting to stay, but Terra’s determined gaze left him no choice.

“I love you, Mom” were his last words before he turned to follow Merryl. Footsteps echoed behind him as he made his retreat, leaving Terra alone with the blood-soaked sentinel.

“I love you too, Marsh. Now- go,” she managed to whisper under her breath before her attention turned back to the sentinel.

-Marsh and Merryl-

Blood stained Merryl’s red paws, leaving a scarlet trail behind them as they raced through the soot-salted halls. Marsh, only now realizing the gravity of his situation, having killed a sentinel, there would be no way back now. If he had pleaded it as a misunderstanding, they might have believed him. Marsh shook his head at the thought knowing that to be wishful thinking. The unreliable court wouldn't hesitate to declare his guilt, and even if Marsh had always been comfortable living on a “maybe.” Unlike Kyllian, who thrived on certainty, Marsh was accustomed to navigating uncertainty. The sentinel's death left him feeling suspended in mid-air, and now he had to figure out how to land.

Following his instincts was crucial, and right now every instinct screamed at him to run. He had never been like his father who thrived on half-baked information, just by acting decisively on it.

His head was a whirlwind of thoughts, doubts, and anxieties. Merryl, the red panda he had always seen as Terra’s pet, seemed to sense his distress. She paused, tilted her head, looking back at him with almost human-like concern. For a moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something, but instead turned and continued running, ultimately trying to guide him out of the courtyard.

“Wait, no—Merryl,” Marsh whispered urgently. “That’s the courtyard! We’ll be noticed!” Merryl glanced back at him from outside the gate, then darted back inside. Footsteps and voices echoed from both directions, closing in. They were trapped unless they made a run for it along the side podium of the courtyard and found a window further down.

The path offered few options: the cathedral entrance to the catacombs, the morgue, or the remains of the old prison. Reluctantly, they chose to head toward the catacombs. They had managed to evade the guards, so far, but it was only a matter of time before Merryl’s trail was picked up again. They needed to find a way out.

They slipped past the morgue, where the scent of floral petals filled the air, masking the stench of rotting flesh. The undertaker, focused on his grim work and not known for his vigilance, failed to notice them. They pressed on toward the catacombs, hoping this could be their escape route. The catacombs had another entrance further down the road and several secret exits scattered throughout the frosty woods—a place only the desperate or madmen would venture. Their best hope was to reach the town and find a way out from there.

Finally, Marsh and Merryl reached the iron-barred gate. Relief washed over them, but it was short-lived—the gate was tightly locked, requiring a key. Marsh wondered if the undertaker might have one.