Caged - Prologue

The future had not turned out the way he had thought it would.
That was all Altrius Dial could think about as he picked his way through the mountain range of death and rubble, the thriving city that had once been Racel, Trellimein. Stooping next to a body, he brushed light hair away from a pale face and then continued on his way, buried under an ocean of guilt.
All his fault...The nuclear war was all his fault. If he hadn't defied the rules by which he lived...by which demons lived...none of this would have happened.
He heard footsteps, and whirled around to see a small boy sprinting toward the worst of the explosions. Running after the sobbing child, he swung an arm around their chest and tackled them to the ground. “Khardan, get down!” he roared, rolling so that the Prince of Racel was underneath him, protected, just as a bomb went off right beside them.
Coughing as dust and poison filled his lungs, Altrius stood and pulled Khardan Tiqeula to his feet, digging out his inhaler. “Let go!” Khardan was screaming, struggling to get away from him. He felt the boy bite him, but paid no mind. “Get off of me, you monster!”
Shocked but unable to show it through his emotionless shell, he let go of Khardan and looked down at his scarred hands. Shadowcaster hands. Demon hands. Monster hands.
“This is all your fault!” Khardan bawled, falling to his knees and punching Altrius over and over again with his small fists. “All—your—fault!”
The sky began to drip, like a tap a child hasn't managed to fully turn off. Why does it rain? Altrius wondered, not for the first time. Their world—Utopia—was supposed to be perfect. This world...this horrible place...was anything but.
“Emel is dead...” Khardan sniffled and choked back another sob. “The bombs got to her before I could. I don't know where Gaeron is. He disappeared. All your fault...”
“I'm sorry,” Altrius said quietly. Usually, Khardan liked to describe Al's voice as the physical sound of melting chocolate—deep, rich, and a bit raspy. Right now, however, he hated it. He wished Altrius was dead.
“I'm going to go look for Gaeron.”
When the immortal man didn't answer, Khardan got up and ran off again. Altrius watched him sadly, knowing that it was his fault that Khardan's girlfriend, best friend Colan, mentor, and parents were killed in the battle. The war was all his fault...He would never let himself forget it. This was his sin, and being reminded of it day after day would be his eternal punishment. To make sure, he would take Khardan as his own apprentice.
Getting to his feet, he brushed the dust and dead skin off his dark blue cape and pushed his ebony fringe out of his eyes. Black eyes, he reminded himself spitefully. Monster eyes.
It took him only half an hour to find Khardan, who was on the verge of collapse as he kneeled next to his twin brother in a pool of sticky crimson blood. Gaeron was dead, he realized with a painful feeling in his chest. Gods...how many other deaths was he going to be responsible of? His own best friend, Lis Echo, was dead. All because of him.
He gathered Khardan up into his arms, and winced inwardly when the boy asked, in a faint, dazed voice, “Where...are we going?”
“Home,” he replied in his usual monotone, looking down at the prince. He had no home. He had disgust and hatred; Khardan was going to be disappointed. Taking refuge in the Jutian Area, a rather backwater place, was hardly ideal for royalty such as the child in his arms. The boy uttered a soft “oh” and said no more. He would tell the boy later that his parents were dead. At the moment, he wasn't sure the boy could take it.
And so it begins, he told himself with a dead feeling inside. My punishment.
The future had not turned out the way he had thought it would.

Well, first off I would like to say this is a great start for a story and that the actions in the story were greatly described but there are a few things that could possible have some fixing.

-The actions were described well but the surroundings weren't described enough for a visual in the reader's mind; does that make any since? If it doesn't then what I'm meaning is that I'm having a hard time getting a visual impression in my mind, like a movie, and for readers that use this technique a lot we tend to skip over stories that hardly describe the surroundings. If you were to describe the surroundings and appearance of the characters then that will really help the readers along.
-The paragraphs look too close together and probably need some spacing between them to help the reader's eyes focus. I would also advise adding an indention whenever you have a new paragraph starting.
-Everything in the story seems to be happening so quickly (not that it's a bad thing) but I would also advise possible adding some fillers in between so the reader's don't get lost in the action.

Hope that this helps you a bit with the writing and you don't take it as a flame. Just ask if you have any questions about my reasons.

Hello there I'm Truth, and I shall review your work tonight!
Alright, let's start with the unpleasant, the nitpicks...

A single guard ran by, puffing hard and searching for him.

“I'll find you,” he yelled.

The man slammed one fist into his palm, comma “Then you'll get it, kid!”

Don't forget to use commas between dialogue and narration.

“Have you seen a thief anywhere nearby?” The older man demanded.

“Which one?” Said the other, with a frown, comma “There's two of them.”

Here, I'm not sure you can actually wear a frown.. but you can have one, so I just changed it a bit.

“His Majesty has told us to bring him the Children of the Prophecy, comma and it's no secret that these two boys are some of the many that we have to capture.”
The other nodded solemnly. “King Zelven is going to have us executed if we don't get 'em soon.”

“They're still after us,” Khardan said, quite literally grabbing darkness from the shadows of their alleyway and twirling it around like clouds in his palm.

There's no need putting 'quite literally' here, if you explain it like this. We figure he actually played with it.

The Company. That was what they called themselves, their little rag-tag team of demons "terrorists."

Scratch the 's'

He was one of the Swordbearers —beings who could control fire and darkness, and owned glowing orange swords, once they had gone through the Changing, a ritual that brought their full powers fully to them

Some suggestions...

They played the part well, Khardan acknowledged; they both had dark, shaggy hair that hung in their eyes and spiked out in the back, pale skin, and when they weren't busy being hyperactive and sarcastic, they acted like it too.

Act like what?

Leaving their homes for forever, comma so early in their lives had taken a toll.

The twins had reached the most poorer section of Wuidlen, where only three abandoned houses stood—though one was still lived in, Khardan thought to himself with a grin as they went up to it.

'Poorer' works better here.

The house, though with its rosy brick like all the others, was crumbling and turning gray; the colorful flowers on the small still, comma under the white-trimmed windows were dead and long gone. Even so, it was a fine house, comma once you got passed the more unsavory aspects of the old building, although it looked as if it were leeched of color.

Flowers should be laying 'on' the window still and not 'in'

Khardan glanced up, his hair revealing two earrings—purple and green jewels glittering dully from his left ear—and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Careful—that window up there is open.”

Within seconds they came bursting through a heavy wooden door, grinning and dropping their bags onto the floor from where they had been hanging off their shoulders all day.

Keep in mind you have to stay in the past tense. It's the first slip-up I saw, it's pretty good.

Khardan grinned at him and reached up to tangle Sae's white blond and black hair.

I would take out the parentheses, I find they are quite annoying when they are used repeatedly, but that's just me.

Emel had only seen him twice before—she had seen him at least twelve.

This sentence here is quite confusing... has she seen him only twice or twelve times?

“Al,” Emel cried lightly, and brought him a glass of blood-red wine.

If I'm right, you meant the wine was 'blood-red', right?

Alrighty, that is all

Overall, I cannot comment on the plot right away, because this is only the prologue, but I must say this looks promising. It surely has a lot of potential. The characters, I feel are a bit confusing for me... For now, I understood that Khardan and his brother are small, and look like children and also act like some, or like teenagers really, but how old are they really? This is only a beginning so I am hoping to see some more characterization along the way Secondly, the descriptions at times is pretty good but at other, is not as much, be sure to take your time explaining things at the right moment and not say things unnecessarily. The rest, I don't really have much to say, so good job! PM me if you need some clarification on some of the things above, or if you want me to review more
Keep on writing!

-Truth-

Hi! Well, I'm going to come and review anyway, see if I get anything the others have missed. My technique is different and picky to say the least, but most of the time I'll like what I'm reading. Also, I'm pretty opinionated and review less of the grammar and more of the flow and sound... so, yeah.

KhardanJakk wrote:

Prologue

Prince Khardan Jakkulas Tiqeula of Racel Wow! That's quite a name! Maybe you could tone it down a notch... leaped over a low wall and crouched, waiting intently. A single guard ran by, puffing hard and searching for him To me, this sounds a little silly. Plus, we'll understand that the guard is searching for him by reading the next piece of speech so... cut it out . “I'll find you,” he yelled. The man slammed one fist into his palm. “Then you'll get it, kid!”
Holding his breath, Khardan prayed to every single God that he would not be found—although, he knew that he was perfectly capable of killing the guard (commonly dubbed Wards) This is so purely a taste issue, but I think having brackets in written fiction looks tacky. Put the same phrase between dashes or commas... within two heartbeats. Before he could be spotted, however, another Ward rounded the corner with a vexed expression. Weird. Rewrite as "looking vexed" or something.
“Have you seen a thief anywhere nearby?” the older man demanded. They both had the plain, nondescript voices that most Xyrenians, people from the country of Xyren, had. Don't treat the reader as an idiot. By "Xyrenian" I understand that it is a nationality, I don't neet the emboldened phrase to get that.
“Which one?” said the other. He was wearing a frown. I like this description, beats the regular "he was frowning" kind of thing. “There's two of them.”
The older Ward blinked; surprise flickered across his face for a brief moment. “Two of them?” he repeated incredulously. He ran one hand through his hair, taking off his helmet and leaning his rifle against a nearby building. Well, it's got to be nearby if he's just reached out and leant it against it.
“I think they might be brothers. Maybe even twins. One is a bit taller, though.”
Khardan started mildly when he realized they were talking about his identical twin brother. Gaeron had somehow come to be Better, "Gaeron was one inch taller than him" one inch taller than him—he was jealous of him for it, as neither of them were very tall. Immortally sixteen (his true age at the time was around sixty), he himself was barely five feet tall and “absolutely adorable,” in the terms of most people. They thought he was a little boy. Of course, his voice and manner only encouraged the belief.
He suddenly fought the urge to giggle, wondering where Gaeron was hiding. I liked the last several sentences, they sounded really natural.
“This is retarded,” the younger man muttered at last Leave out. as he lit a cigarette; Khardan Jakk blinked a few times when he realized he hadn't been paying attention to what could have been crucial news about the happenings in Xyren. This is really wordy, too many things going on in one sentence. Mentally calling himself an idiot, he listened carefully. “His Majesty has told us to bring him the Children of Prophecy. And it's no secret that these two boys are some of the many that we have to capture.” This is really false, as if you're writing it just for the reader, never do that. The other nodded solemnly. “King Zelven is going to have us executed if we don't get 'em soon.”
Executed? Khardan felt himself frowning, and carefully slipped away into the crowds of Wuidlen, Xyren. He felt sorry for the guards, of course, but it was not his own matter. No, right now he had to find—
A tap on the shoulder alerted him of possible Wards, Odd sentence. Sounds childish. and he whirled around with a sharp, jagged-edged dagger suddenly in hand. Then he let his guard drop again, breathing a sigh of relief. “Gae. I've been wondering where you were.”
Prince Gaeron Chadanlus Tiqeula of Racel Another crazy name? grinned at him, and led him away from prying eyes almost unconsciously. The wary ways of thieves had been drilled into their minds at a young age, and they took precautions almost absently these days. “What have you found?” the one-inch-taller twin demanded.
“They're still after us,” Khardan said, quite literally grabbing darkness from the shadows of their "their" alleyway? alleyway and twirling it around like clouds in his palm. “Zelven wants us captured; he'll murder his precious army to get to the Company.”
The Company. That was what they called themselves, their little rag-tag team of demons "terrorists." Again, put there just to help the reader and it breaks the flow. The race of non-humans was common in Athaneumn, their world, Well, yes, thank you. Your reader is not stupid. and there were all sorts of them. Living in a half medieval, half futuristic society, Khardan Jakkulas was no exception. He was a Swordbearer—beings who could control fire and darkness, who owned glowing orange swords once they had gone through the Changing, the ritual that brought their powers fully to them. Every Swordbearer had to suffer through it eventually. It's best if you can slip info in discreetly, not in huge, obvious chunks like this.
Gaeron nodded slowly, appearing to be thinking hard. “Zelven is going to keep coming,” he sighed. “This is pretty bad news, huh?”
“Yeah,” Khardan agreed dully. Pretty bad news indeed; it was horrible news! “We should get going.”
The sun was setting. Looking up at it with his large, almond-shaped green eyes, Gaeron scowled but nodded. “Right. To Operation Hidden, then, Khardy?”
“To Operation Hidden, brother mine,” Khardan agreed with a beaming smile as they began to dart through the city at top speed, dodging cars and bicycles as they ran. Wearing thin black jeans (Emel called them skinny jeans, Khardan recalled), dark t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts, they blended in easily with those Azriel called “emo and goth” kids. They played the part well, Khardan acknowledged; they both had dark, shaggy hair that hung in their eyes and spiked out in the back, pale skin, and when they weren't busy being hyperactive and sarcastic, they acted like it too.
Leaving their homes forever so early in their lives had taken a toll.
Wuidlen was not Major topic change... the best city Khardan had ever seen; far from it. If he had to choose, he had to admit that Saar, Luaran was the most beautiful place he had seen so far—and that had been a hard choice, for Khardan's greatest enemy lived in that country. More than that: the man was King.
As they were overly crowded and noisy, Khardan Jakk found himself often claustrophobic in the streets here. It wasn't as if they weren't nice—no, in fact the community was quite clean and smelled almost fresh. And that was rare for a bustling city like this.
Passing by a tall building, Khardan glanced behind him to make sure they weren't being followed and then trailed along after Gaeron. His thoughts wandered; they usually did at times like this. His mind wandered quite often these days, as he had become quite distracted and more taciturn than before. Emel and the others hadn't helped much, either.
“Here we are,” Gaeron announced only a few minutes later.
The twins had reached the most poor poorest section of Wuidlen, where only three abandoned houses stood—though one was still lived in, Khardan thought to himself with a grin as they went up to it. The house, though with its rosy brick like all the others, was crumbling and turning gray; the colorful flowers in the small sill under the white-trimmed windows were dead and long gone. Even so, it was a fine house once you got passed the more unsavory aspects of the old building, although it looked as if it were leeched of color. I liked all of this.
“Let's sneak in so Emel won't know we're coming,” Khardan suggested softly, looking up at the open window of their temporary home.
Gaeron was silent for a few seconds, and then nodded with a growing smile. The two of them loved scaring the others by jumping out of the shadows with loud noises and wild eyes. Every time they would either jump violently or scream, running to their bedrooms and quickly closing the doors before the thieves could come in and tease them.
The two began to edge alongside the house, hugging the brick wall. Khardan glanced up, revealing two earrings—purple and green jewels glittered dully from his left ear—and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Careful—that window up there is open.”
“Aw, why don't you just jump out at me and get it over with?” came a girl's amused voice, and the two thieves looked up immediately. Emel was leaning out the window slightly, laughing. “Geez. Stupid assholes.”
“Language,” somebody reproved from inside the room Princess Emel Lekanea Finale of Loran For goodness' sake! Tone down these names, poor characters! How do they remember them? was in.
Emel whirled around and snapped, “Gawds, are you Al now? I can cuss if I want, Azriel.”
“That was Sae, not me! Geez.”
The small blonde girl winced slightly. “Sorry, Azriel. I thought it was you for a minute. And Sae, shut the—”
Khardan and Gaeron darted around the corner before Emel could finish that thought, snickering to themselves as they hauled open the cellar door. It was concealed almost completely. It was also their only way in; the front door was locked and boarded up completely, far beyond use.
Stepping down inside and feeling carefully for the worn, crumbling stairs, Khardan promptly found himself in a place the Company liked to call Operation Hidden (they made up nicknames for everything). Unnecessary. - I hope I spelt that right, oh well.
The cellar was in surprisingly good shape; the floor was made of sturdy slabs of gray stone, and on the upstairs sections of the house, the floors were made of a polished cherry wood. When they had first found the house, it had been a rotting mess, but with their combined efforts they had transformed it into something to be proud of. Filthy and rundown on the outside, yes, but on the inside comma fit for a Prince.
The twins slowly stumped up the stone stairs that led to the kitchen, as they were in the basement Don't need this either , and then began turning on lights. Neither of them remembered to close the cellar's trapdoor, one of the most important rules they lived with.
“Welcome home,” Khardan said in a slightly bitter voice; the word 'home' put a pang in his heart. Oh, how he missed Racel...
“Yeah,” agreed Gaeron, and the two began to race each other up the staircase that led to where they truly lived in Operation Hidden. Within seconds they burst through a heavy wooden door, grinning and dropping their bags onto the floor from where they had been hanging off their shoulders all day. “We're ba-ack!”
Emel, Sae, and Azriel turned with smiles. “Hey, guys,” they greeted cheerfully, at separate times.
“Is there an echo in here?” Khardan asked with feigned astonishment, kicking off his Converse low-tops and pulling off his sweatshirt. He dropped the sweatshirt down on a chair nearby, and sprawled out on Emel's bed. Prince Sae Folantel Yizat of Adretyn !!! plopped down beside him, ruffling his rainbow-highlighted hair.
“How ya been, Khardy?” the tall boy asked. Khardan grinned at him and reached up to tangle Sae's white blonde hair (his bangs were pure black). But his friend ducked out of the way before he could, and Khardan stuck his tongue out at him. “Aw, don't be like that. I'm just playing around with you.”
“Go to Seclain.” Khardan grinned. Emel watched out of the corner of her eye as a dark shape moved across the sunset-lit street, and frowned slightly as she leaned carefully out the window again to spy on their spy.
“Someone's here,” she hissed, just as the figure below made a 'tsk' sound and headed down to the open cellar door. “Khardan, Gaeron, did you forget to close the freaking door on your way in?”
The two winced, realizing their mistake. If you say they winced, then we realise that they've realised their mistake. None of them noticed as Azriel crept out of the room and hurried down the stairs to meet the newcomer, who she recognized immediately. Emel had only seen him twice before—she had seen him at least twelve. Khardan himself had lived with the man for at least five years, but he'd been occupied, as had Gaeron. So it was up to her to reveal the stranger's identity.
“Hello, Altrius,” she said cheerfully as a man with a youthful teenage appearance came into the kitchen and fixed her with a steely eye from above his high collar.
“...Hn,” the man grunted, his usual reply. Well, at least it wasn't the dreaded 'dot dot dot's,' as Khardan called them or formal, slightly depressing words spoken in a monotone. “Azriel. How did you know it was me?”
She shrugged, sitting down at the table. He remained standing, leaning against the closest wall. “The way you walk. And your eyes, of course.”
Altrius sent her his all-time famous “Death Glare,” and she winced slightly. “...My eyes.”
“Well, yeah,” Azriel said offhandedly. The others were coming downstairs now, greeting Altrius cheerfully. Khardan had the nerve to hug him enthusiastically, and the hugged one automatically flinched away as he usually did when involved with human contact.
“Al,” Emel cried lightly, and brought him a glass of blood red wine. I know TheTruthLiesWithin said it should be "blood-red" but I always see it writted as "bloodred". Drinking it down in one gulp, the strange man let loose a breath and then nodded his thanks.
“You...shouldn't have wine here,” he said quietly, right afterward. “You're—”
“Little kids,” they chorused sardonically. “We know.”
Altrius quirked an eyebrow slightly, and made his “Hn” sound again, a slightly rough noise made in the back of his throat. “...Smart asses,” he said finally, a dark look in his remarkable eyes.
But Khardan only beamed. “We're just having some fun,” he insisted. “We've been cooped up here for months now.”
With a barely audible sigh, Altrius looked up from his refilled wine. “I need to speak to you about something, Khardan,” he said dully. Pausing for a sip of his drink, he went on after a moment. “They've...”
“They've?”
“...found us,” he announced in his deep, slightly raspy voice, finishing the sentence. Khardan had always loved Al's voice; it was the physical sound of melting chocolate.
But now he didn't love it so much. “F-found us...?” Gaeron stuttered after a moment, unable to speak correctly in their horrified, stricken silence.
“Holy Razah, father of the rest Brilliant! ,” Sae breathed, and collapsed into a chair. He stood up from it again a few seconds later, and began to pace. “Holy crapazolas.”
Normally, they (not including Altrius) would all be laughing at how dorky everyone in the Company was, but not now. Instead, they felt like killing Sae for even attempting to add some relieving humor into the topic. Khardan guiltily caught his hand inching toward his dagger.
“...They have found us,” Altrius repeated firmly, and then stood up. “I'm leaving.”
Khardan clung to him. “Al, you can't leave. Come with—help us!”
His friend shook him off. “Khardan,” the man said almost harshly as he grabbed Khardan's shoulders and them too tightly, “you need to listen to me. I'm being tracked; you're in danger right now. Do you understand? I'm just putting you in greater danger.”
“You can't just leave me here,” the little thief whined, nearly stamping his foot at the unfairness of it all. How old is this character? “Altrius, you can't just leave us alone again.”
“I'm sorry,” Altrius snapped as he stood up and finished off his wine again. “...I have to go. Get packed, and get out of Wuidlen immediately. Go to...”
He paused, and then went on with more certainty. “Go to the Jutian Area. I know you love it there—can't imagine why,” Al added in a mutter. Altrius hated the noise and bright lights of the Jutian Area. Don't repeat it again.
“But Al, you can't just leave us here!” Khardan began to say, but Altrius was suddenly gone, leaving the mini Company where they were. Abandoned, alone, and forsaken. “Let's go get packed,” Khardan muttered after a while, and headed upstairs. He could hear the cellar door slam closed as he went, and almost casually probed at Altrius's thoughts—they were blocked off, as usual—before grabbing his shoes and pulling them on.
The Company was ready to leave within minutes; instantly they were out the door, jogging down the darkened street and trying to pass under streetlights nonchalantly.
It was when they were on the move again, ready to give up after two years spent in hiding/running like this, that Khardan gave a grim smile and made up a new nickname—one of his many specialties.
It's a chess game, he thought bitterly. We're the pawns, being controlled and made miserable by people stronger and smarter than us.
At least six thousand leagues away, somebody else was realizing the same thing, and both smiled with same smile as they made their way west to the Jutian Area.Don't repeat! We know where they're going! One group was running—the other was the one doing the chasing. It was a simple but effective relationship that went back to so many years ago that it made one's head hurt when they tried to think about it.
But now it was acknowledged, and a tense certainty entered the entire world of Athaneumn as it trembled in wait for the Heirs, for the Children of Prophecy to come together at last.
For the chess game was on, and it was all they could do to keep alive.

I really enjoyed reading this, as much as you might think otherwise, and I would love it if you told me when the next bit comes out.

Most of my things were nitpicks apart from the fact that A: never treat the reader as an idiot and B: don't - especially in fantasy because it happens too often - chuck in information to "aid" the reader wherever you can. Remember, it must be natural and in character and it must flow.

I like this and I'm interested to know more - I especially loved the end because I think you got into a real flow of writing. Keep it up and message me when you've posted the next - if there will be a next...

~ Ash

I really loved this chapter and will read more once I have read through my new chapter and edit it. Also as a suggestion I would say to space the paragraphs, I kept getting lost. Or maybe that's just me, but I'd say do it just so people like me have easier time XD. Either way very descriptive and very neatly well done; I really loved the plot. Hope this helps you in anyway and Good luck. Happy Writing!!!
Soulkana<3