Reflecting his image in the polished black onyx surface, Janus Aurelix smiled to himself, revealing gold flecked teeth. They were sharpened, but this was more for ceremony than any practical purpose as all his food was cooked by the finest chefs in the Empire now, and there had not been a war in seventeen years. His eyes, usually red, were covered with smoked glass, as befitted the current fashion. His head was all but shaven, with only a thin band of hair around the back of his head to symbolise his semi-divinity. Janus checked himself in the polished stone again, his gaze traveling from his hooked nose, down past the heavy golden sun around his neck to the purple robes he wore. Something about them bothered him, some small detail which distressed him slightly. A speck of dust! He brushed it off his shoulder, muttering to himself irritably as he did so.
A harsh wind blew through the open window in his study, causing his fire to cast strange shadows about the darkened room, making them dance in time to the ghastly moan of the cold winter wind. That same harsh wind blew again, stronger this time, making several of the books in his personal library shift, their pages rustling. A slim dark red book fell from the furthest end steeped in shadow, and landed with a soft sigh in the darkness.
Janus paused in his preening at this sound which intruded upon his personal universe. He removed his glasses and stared into the darkness, attempting to find the source of the noise. His red eyes could not penetrate the darkness however, and he padded over to where the book had fallen, with only his robes making any noise as he walked. He picked up the book, and started as recognition hit him. His stance instantly lost it's composure, it's grim purpose. He wandered over to his dark red velvet armchair in front of his fire, his fingers tracing the once familiar design on the cover with his long gnarled fingers. Echoes of deeds long since past played through his mind. Sounds, images, smells. His hands shook with eager anticipation as forbidden arts once again called to him through the pages.
“My, my, my,” he said to himself, staring unseeing at the cover of the Liber Hereticarnum. “Where have you been all these years?”
With that, question in his mind, Janus opened the book, and re-read the words he had once known by heart, that were even now awakening in his memory.
Fifty miles away from where Emperor Janus Aurelix's fortress city stood, a young man by the name of Kaspar Ash pushed his boat through the quasi marshland delta of the river Iyx. Blood red reeds dominated the landscape, and had done so since the Battle of Calebni seventeen years previously. Kaspar had been young then, too young to feel the effects other citizens of the Empire had. The sights of that battle had driven many of the army insane, and wounded more. Now the people were subdued, knew no joys. They lived in eternal fear of the God-Emperor who had re-established himself on that night. They lived in the knowledge that what had happened could happen once more. The scarring ran deep. Even the land had not escaped the pain, and although it had been hurt in the past, it had always recovered quickly. Not so this time. It had still not healed.
Kaspar did not give this much thought however. He was too concerned with his current plight, that of his master and his fiancé. He sighed and cast his mind back two days, back to when he was simply a fisherman, engaged to be wed to a beautiful woman. His days had consisted of simple pleasures, like the rising of the sun, and the warmth of the wind from the sea. He loved, and was loved by the members of his village, called St. Narsine. It had a small population, maybe fifty people, and was spread out over a pleasant landscape. It was a classic farm village, with a crossroad in the center, and a small inn, which was named “The Pale Stag”.
He had memories of the place, but they were were fading, images turning gray in his mind, feelings dying. He remembered the midsummer festival, the flowers and the games, but they meant nothing now. Not since the ritual. The ritual that had turned the village into a smouldering wreck, the ash of the human occupants mixing with that of the wooden houses. He shuddered, even now, remembering the Bloodening, which had been different this time, his own Bloodening.
The memories which had been fading suddenly came back now as he tried to remember them, like a dam bursting. His wife to be, Ionæ, smiling, dancing with him. The grim look on his master's face when he informed Kaspar of his being chosen, of his path. Fire. Blood. Lights and finally, screaming.
Kaspar felt dizzy, and the boat shook beneath his unsteady feet, making him to fall down, lest he fall into the red, murky waters the the delta. He sighed and pressed his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes. Though it was dark, the full moon provided enough light to see by, and as Kaspar looked up, he saw movement in amongst the reeds. Panic crossed his features, and he scrabbled in the base of the boat for his knife. His hand quested in the darkness, his eyes flickering from boat to reeds and back again. The plants were still now, however, and so was Kaspar. He stopped in a half crouched position, straining his ears, trying to identify the slightest sound, but also avoiding making any himself, for even the whisper of his very breath could alert whatever was out there to his presence. After a minute, maybe two, Kaspar relaxed and sat down - and it was at this point the creature attacked.
It burst into the air behind him, spraying claggy marsh water everywhere. A scream accompanied it, a harsh, guttural scream which pierced Kaspar's soul and sent icy shivers down his spine. So shocked was Kaspar, that he fell backwards to the bow of the small boat. By the full moon's light he could dimly make out fins, and scales. A smell arrived at his nostrils, that of decaying flesh, and oozing hatred. The creature's eyes caught some of the light, glinting in his direction with only one emotion clear, murder. It crouched, and began moving towards him. The thing from the marsh was drawing short, spluttering breathes, as though it was unused to the air of the land. Kaspar was frozen with fright, millions of pictures in his mind describing exactly what this creature could do to him, the tortures it would purvey upon his tender, warm flesh. The abomination's balance was not, however, good, and it slipped, rocking the boat again. Kaspar suddenly found his dagger touching his hand, and the shock of the cold metal sent him into action. He grasped the knife, and jumped up, further shaking the boat and spraying water everywhere. He slashed the knife – once, twice, three times at the fish-thing, each time drawing it backwards. Kaspar finally caught it with the keen edge of the dagger, cutting a deep hole in it's chest, and forcing an explosive scream from the creature. Now he was closer, he could clearly see gills, and the shape of the eyes, so unnatural, so alien to him. It was obviously not a thing of this world. Kaspar slashed once more, and finally the creature hissed, slashed out with it's claws, and leapt back into the marsh from whence it came. Kaspar sat down, exhausted, and sighed. He did not sleep that night, nor for the rest of the time he was on that marsh.
I'll crit it either way, but just a head's up. There are some people who won't even bother to read someone's work if it's clumped together. Not good. 
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