Author's Note Hi, This might not turn out to be your favourite part, I think it's a bit boring to be honest, but I threw the idea together in about an hour, please tell me what you think.
Chapter Two
The buttercups in the vast field mellowed under the midday sun, and in the distance, a man groomed his horse. The weak glow that shone from its body embossed the great picturesque. It had a silky silvery mane that waved from its head. Its fur shimmered white, its great stature visible from horizon to horizon. The man was stroking its back with a brush, his tatty overall waving in the wind.
The ground that met the now burnt orange sky on the hilltops, gave a sudden seismic tremor. The man was thrown backwards as the horse leapt into the air on two legs, screeching into the deep sky. Smoke bellowed from the distance whilst cries pierced the night.
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Aedomir woke to the sound of vivid echoes. His eardrums trembled and he froze with a sense of apprehension.
“Keep down you runt!”
He stirred, opened his eyes partway and squinted at the leaping flames. Slowly his eyes adjusted to a rather dim ambience. A tall blurry figure stood at his feet. As he went to move, he became aware of several ropes tying across his body, pinning him down like a pig to the slaughter. He raised his head slightly to get a better view. His clothes were ripped; his arms were bruised; his weapons were gone... he was as vulnerable as a newborn.
“I said keep down!” A sharp whip snapped onto his skin. He cried in shock and abruptly threw his head back. Crashing into the jagged rock, his skull exploded with gigantic pain.
A blinding light erupted above the cloaked figure. Overhead, the light shone out between its clasped hands. The jet black cape greyed from the radiance, but under the hooded face, nothing could be seen. The light that dazzled his eyes forced them to a shut. He panted deeply and tried to rack his brain.
Then he remembered. The legends of Heamor, his home realm—or origin realm—spoke of rituals. Aedomir became apparent that this ritual involved the joining of a new scavenger to the hordes of Ethina—where dwelt the Kalbarcs. That is to say, Aedomir.
That light—the blinding light—what next Aedomir? Think! He turned his head left and right. With a colossal of might, they peeled back. The twilight prince. The light subsided with a sudden blink. Aedomir, oblivious to sound through his hefty heart thumps widened his eyes and stared at the host.
The prince had risen above the platform Aedomir lay on, and floated, arms stretched. The hood was thrown back, and his head tilted to the ceiling. Aedomir stared in awe at the figure. The prince’s bearing skin shined a hazy blue. Across his forehead sparkled the tips of hundreds of horns. Slowly, his head turned down. The eyes rose into view. Aedomir’s met with them all too soon. “I’ll never join you! Never join…” His voice trailed away. “Never join…”
He tried to turn. He tried to scream. No longer was he in control. A blue light stretched out from his eye and met the white stream of the prince’s. It flickered before his eyes—all the colours he had ever known flashed vividly ahead.
The colours melted into Aedomir and then it all ended.
The prince screeched and fell to the ground. Its cloak flapped wildly and whimpered in the air. Aedomir yelled and pushed himself up. The ropes tore before him and the whips of the Kalbarc’s cord slapped his skin again, but only a feint twinge tickled him. He stood on top of the platform and turned around.
A face rose out of the shadows, its bright bloodshot eyes narrowing on him. Suddenly his vision started to faze away and his arms flailed down to his side, right before he fell towards the Kalbarc’s eager sword.
