“So… this is the dark lords palace?” A dark skinned man carrying a large gun asked, despite already knowing the answer.
In a desolate and dreary outcropping, a small group of people were making their way towards an ancient castle that reeked of evil, almost as if it was made of evil.
“It radiates evil despite being over 1000 years old.” Said a beautiful pale skinned woman dressed in pure white cloth which held the symbol for an omega, the letters placed in “Holy locations.”
When the group of four entered the building, destruction greeted them. Chipped walls and torn rugs beside stone pedestals lined the entrance hallway, it’s once magnificent glory all but forgotten.
“This place been rakd’. You sur’ you can find what chu’ need?” A rather ugly man spoke, his gapped teeth causing a slight whistling sound when he spoke.
“Melinda is a powerful priestess and if my sources are correct the dark lords book should still be here.” A rather cute beastwoman said, a slight sadness in her eyes.
“Come… let us go search for his chambers.”
The four searched the mansion, an eerie quiet descending upon the building as they searched. After a short few minutes of searching the room was found to be in the far back, a place where no light shone despite the morning day.
“It’s back here.” The beastwoman called, her hands going for the handles.Before she could touch them the priestess’s hands shot out and grabbed them, a small veil of white light over her hand.
“It is guarded by ancient magic. One touch and your mind will be completely shattered, lost in the world of pain.” The beastwoman shuddered, quickly moving away from the black doors.
“Please step back.” The priestess told the group. She then began to gather a frightening amount of mana in her hands, all of it for one purpose. With a deafening sound she smacked her hands against the door, the cry of a thousand babies coming into their ears. In but a moment it was over, but it felt like lifetime. Before the priestess could fall to the ground she was caught by the dark skinned man, a worried look on his face.
“It is fine, Rayan. I’m just exhausted. To think it took nearly all my magic just to dispel his door wards… I shudder thinking about meeting him in person.”
The four entered the room, a priceless amount of artifacts coming into sight.
“By the god… these treasures are the dark lords personal garm--! “ The beastwoman could not finish her sentence before the ugly farmer ran forwards, forgetting the possibility of danger.
“Mr.Dan no!” The priestess yelled. Unfortunately it was too late. The farmer, drawn by the call of greed rushed towards a spear that looked like it was covered in human faces. Before he could even scream his whole body exploded, sending guts and intestines everywhere. The priestess threw up a hastily made barrier, retching when the head of the farmer smashed against it.
“What was that!?” The beastwoman nearly screamed, fear evident on her face.
“That was but a small sample of the power contained inside the spear of flesh. No mortal can wear this gear and contain it’s power.” The dark skinned man said, disgust plain on his face.
“And I probably don’t need to say this but I will anyways. Do NOT look at the shield of terror. You will, without a doubt, be placed under its spell.”
“We know this my love. Let us get to the reason we are here for.” The priestess said, shakily walking away from the dark skinned man.
Five hours passed since they had begun to search for “It.” They searched the bed, the closets, the bathroom, the dressers and more yet still had no luck.
“Here it is!” The dark skinned man yelled, currently standing besides the bed. The two women walked towards him, curious as to where it was.
“Inside one of the pillows. It was so flawlessly seamed together I didn’t think it was in them.” In the man’s hand was a black leather bound journal, sealed together by a small white ribbon.
“This is it… the dark prophets most prized possession. His very own journal.” All three of them were hesitant to open it. With a quick sense Melinda knew that it was not magicked nor enchanted, just a regular black journal.
“Well then… we still have time until we need to deliver this to the church… shall we read it?” Melinda said aloud. She realized that she needed to deliver this to the church immediately yet her curiosity wanted her to open the book. Without waiting for an answer she unstrung the ribbon keeping it sealed and began to read.
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1000 years ago. Karak Emalon, Age 6
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“But mom! Writing in a diary is girly!”
“That is not true, Karak. Many famous people wrote in diaries that retold their life’s tale. You want to grow and be the greatest holy wizard right? Well, if you write in a dairy people can truly see how hard you worked to become one!”
“...do you really think I can be one?”
“Of course I do sweetie. You're smarter than most people I know.” The woman said with a smile. The boy smiled back, thinking of how advanced his classes in school were compared to others.
“But.. I show no talent in magic and I’m too weak for to wield a weapon even though Im 6! Brother Aslan is already considered a prodigy in both martial arts and magic! I’m nowhere near as good as him.” The boy began to cry, small tears falling off of his face. The mother visibly flinched when “Brother Aslan” was mentioned, but when the tears began to fall she hugged her son with all her strength, slightly suffocating him.
“It’s okay sweetie, it’s okay. I promise you, in the future you will become strong. Stronger than anyone in this world.” The mother whispered, piquing the kids curiosity.
“Really? The strongest holy wizard in the world?” The kids looked up from his mother's bosom, eyes shining with a bright luster, happiness evident on his face. The mother did not answer, only continuing to stroke his hair.
“Yes… the strongest.” Unbeknownst to the kid a small tear fell off her face when she said this, the color of it black as the night.
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3 years later
“Some say death is but a gateway into a new life. May we pray to our fathers fathers that our empress, Empress Kiyana will be blessed into a new life with loving parents and a great family.” The priest then placed four drops of holy water onto her body, a sign of blessings written across her chest.
“Shall we forever love our holy and benevolent empress Sharyl.”
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Journal Intermission
When my pet mouse died, I cried for three days. When I found out I had no magical talent, I cried for seven. When my mother died, the tears never stopped. Every night I cry myself to sleep, wallowing in pity. I still remember her face when the assassin stabbed her in the back, the book she was holding falling out of her hands. And I can still hear the words she muttered as she died.
“Don’t be weak, my son. I love you.”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
And yet to this day I am still weak. I still have no magical talent, I still have no power in which I can use to protect others. Everyday I study magical formulas and spells in hopes of awakening my non-existent magical powers. Everyday I swing, stab and smash my spear against the training dummy, hoping to gain even a small amount of strength. Everyday I pray to the Light One, hoping to gain just a small bit of power. And yet everyday I am still as weak as the day before, my magical talent still non-existent and my prayers unanswered.
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2 year later
“What is it?” A beautiful redheaded female asked, looking up at Karak. This beautiful female was Jessica, the heiress to the Daylon family. The Daylon family was one of the three major trading clans in the Emalon empire, and perhaps the richest.
“Nothing Jess. I was just thinking about how amazing you are. It seems like you are one of the only people that love me for me, and not for my title.” Karak said, a smile blooming on his face.
“Of course stupid. When I saw you crying at your mother’s funeral It was love at first sight.” Jessica said, rubbing her head against Karak’s shoulder. Karak looked up into the darkening sky, his face a mask of emotion.
“Ha. I was the only one crying at her funeral.” Karak laughed, coldness coming into his eyes. Jessica wanted to say that’s not true, but she couldn’t. He truly was the only one crying at that funeral, tears streaming down his face as his mother was buried.
“It seems as if every noble in the world hated my mother but unjustly so. Just because she was a commoner..” Anger crept into Karak’s voice, his feeble muscles clenching. Eventually they relaxed, his anger fading but not forgotten.
“And even if I wanted to take revenge I can’t. I am far too weak to do so.” Karak still yearned for power. He still prayed to the Light One, trained against the sparrow and studied any book he could find. Still, he was weak.
“Brute strength is not everything my love. When you become the heir you will have an army backing you. Who would dare offend you?” Jessica said, stroking my back.
“No.. father has decided to make Aslan the next emperor.”
“WHAT!” Jessica shot out of Karak’s arm so fast she nearly fell over.
“But you are the oldest and the legitimate heir!” She nearly shouted, causing a few guards to turn their way.
“Quiet! It isn’t yet official. However my father loves my brother far more than he loves me. I overheard him talking about it to the captain of his guard.” Truthfully, Karak did not care about the throne. He already had a feeling this would happen yet with no way to stop father he decided to ignore it. After all, his love Jessica was the only reason he wasn’t wallowing in pity anymore. What more did he need?
“Surely you must feel wronged!” She whispered fiercely, a dark fire in her eyes.
“The throne is of no concern to me my love. All that matters is you.” Karak said sweetly, a loving light in his eyes.
“Lady Jessica, it is time for you to go.” Her maid Sharon said, bowing slightly at the waist.
“Yes. Let’s go.” Jessica said angrily, stomping on a patch of roses as she walked away.
“Wait! Jessica, why are you mad?” Karak shouted, not understanding her anger. She gave no reply but simply walked away, not even bothering to turn around.
“Until next time prince.” Sharon bowed, a look of pity in her eyes.
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“Did you do anything to anger her brother?” A golden haired youth laughed,a sword in his hands. This child was Aslan Heriet, the unofficial heir to the throne and the stepbrother of Karak.
“I did nothing but mention that you were the next heir.” Karak said honestly. Aslan paused in mid swing, looking at Karak.
“Is that all?” He asked. Karak nodded his head, slightly worried. Aslan busted out in laughter, a bright smile on his face.
“She is probably just angry you're not getting angry! I mean we all see how much she cares for you. You two flirt constantly when you are together.” Karak could not refute this, knowing it to be true. Suddenly a knock was heard at the door and Karak tensed. Ever since his mother was murdered after an assassin killed her from the doorway, the sound of knocking makes him slightly scared.
“It is fine brother.” Aslan said, seeing his brother tense. In truth Aslan too felt a slight jolt of fear when someone knocked at the door. But he would not show weakness in front of his brother. No, he loved him too much. He promised himself that he would never let Karak go through another tragedy like that again.
“Who is it?” Aslan yelled.
“Your servant Hannah has a message for Lord Karak.” Karak looked at Aslan, wondering if he knew what it was about. He just shook his head and gestured for him to get the door. He walked over and opened the door, seeing a short brown haired girl holding a white envelope in her tiny hands.
“Thank you.” He said then turned and closed the door. He walked to his brothers bed, flopping down lazily. He recognized the seal of the Daylon family and quickly opened the letter, a smile on his face. He took out the letter and began to read.
“Dear Karak
I apologize for my rude behavior. Recently I have been going through “Girl Problems” and it has made me quite moody. I just wanted to let you know that I love you for you, regardless of whether or not you are the heir. I hope that we can meet up sometime tomorrow over a cup of tea. However it will have to be at my place as my father has grown quite grumpy that I have been constantly going away. I hope that I did not anger you when I left. Say hi to Aster for me.
Love, Jessica.”
Karak smiled at this, surprised that she remembered Ael. Ael was his pet bird, one which he found when it was dropped from the sky because of a broken wing when he was eight. It fell right into his cup of tea, scaring the hell out of his brother. He laughed at the memory, remembering the face his brother made when he saw it. Him and Ael still don’t get along, despite Karak’s involvement.
“So I assume you two made up then?” Aslan laughed, dumping his training sword against the wall.
“You can say that.” Karak said, folding the letter into his pocket. He let out a loud yawn, drowsiness overcoming him.
“I’m tired Aslan. I’m sleeping here tonight.” Karak said and crawled under the covers.
“Where am I supposed to sleep!” Aslan yelled.
“You're a mage. Make a bed outta air.” Karak said, not wanting to get up.
“Pssh you're just too lazy to get up.” Aslan said, using his magic to dim the artificial lights. He jumped on the bed, purposely hitting Karak on the way down.
“Goodnight!” Aslan said cheerily.
“Stupid no good wanna be paladin…” Karak mumbled. With that thought in mind he fell asleep, not knowing how tomorrow would change his life forever.
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