Twilight City.
Prologue.
“They call him Shadow Walker. One of the Old Powers humanity never managed to purge from this world, even by the graces of the Source that fuels our Order. He is extremely dangerous, shunned even by his own kind and never to be approached; in the Old Quarter, our powers are as nothing. It is why we maintain the barriers …”
The boy gasped, holding his side in pain. He was dizzy, wavering as the voice of his one time tutor Theodor drifted into his head, breaking his concentration. His breathing rasped shallow and quick, as he peered furtively around the corner, scanning for guards. But no grey robed figure loomed in the deceptively clear street; small pools of light cast by lantern posts shone on the cobblestones and empty sidewalks. The apparently normal street seemed to be a dead end; the road ended abruptly just beyond the light. To one schooled in the Sight such illusion was ripped away and the roaring, crackling power of the barriers was revealed. Thousands of runes and sigils bound together in an Art long since lost were tied in a binding that hurt the eyes to perceive. Robin paused. He was unsure but instinctively mistrustful. He was so close but he couldn’t abandon the caution that had seen him so far. While he wrung his hands in worry, fate conspired to make the choice for him. A chorus of clicking, overshadowed by sibilant whispers of malice, announced the arrival of his pursuit.
Cursing, he slowly stepped out of cover, emerging into the light tensed and ready for flight. After days of subterfuge and secrecy, he felt naked and exposed in the open. His dimpled smile and tousle haired boyishness were gone, lost in the back alleys of the City he had threaded to get here. His sunken blue green eyes had the haunted look of the fugitive as he checked again for visible signs of pursuit. The very absence of it was suspicious; his leaked blood should’ve instantly been tagged by the guard, even one with a low level scrying ability. And by the echoing sounds drifting down, he could determine that as yet his location was still secure.
Still unsure, Robin reached beneath his black tunic, lifting clear his necklace with its sealed bundle. Black cloth, covered in gleaming sigils and cloaking runes, was undone and lifted away. His personal quartz crystal swung free, its signature cry immediately dampened by fierce concentration. He blanketed his thoughts and roiling emotions; the fear, anger and horror of what he had uncovered, the terror inspired by his flight. He left nothing but a pool of stillness, just as he’d been taught; he inscribed the rune of mastery and obedience, trying to access the crystal’s latent power.
Nothing.
The dissonance and sheer crackling power of the barrier must be overriding the power of any active crystals, he calculated swiftly. Robin fought the insane urge to whoop and dance in relief: his pursuers were blind! Not wasting any more time, he swiftly wrapped his quartz in the spelled cloth and bolted down the street, toward the barriers and freedom. As he did, the street burst into activity; tall, stooping figures in grey ran out of hiding to form up in front of the Wall and behind, the scurried, clicking sound of motion betrayed the presence of still more guards. He was trapped. He should have known his destination would have been divined and secured before hand! He looked back, desperate, but saw nothing but the approaching forms of grey, menacing in their co-ordinated approach. Panic gripped him. Days of being hunted had left him on edge, honing his instincts and skills to a fearful clarity, which was why he caught the small movement from the side alley he had emerged from.
Robin watched as the small shard bomb soared through the air. Time seemed to slow as it landed directly between him and the oncoming guards. Then an explosion of light ripped through the night; throwing all figures backward like toys in a gale. Robin landed sharply on the cobblestone, causing the wound on his side to flare sharply in protest. He got up gingerly, wincing in preparation of the cold, sharp hands that were about to descend on him. But none came. He looked up in surprise, to see all the guards felled. Nor was their any sign of his mysterious benefactor. Blessing his luck, he pelted for the barriers, voice ringing out, he bellowed three names:
“Shadow Walker!
Night’s Bane!
Alt Al Alielieu!”
A line of white fire ripped through the Wall, causing a breach. Robin shouted, overjoyed but whatever he said was lost in roar of raised power and flame. His consciousness and being, was scoured and picked through as the Powers he had summoned examined his worthiness. Whether he passed or not was moot; he was a dead man either way. His last trailing thought was snuffed out and darkness fell.
.