I wrote this a few months ago and thought about going back to it.
Chapter 1
Book one
Part 1
Charles stood in front of the black water of the Burcach river, the area around it was well know as ’Death follow’s. Living up to its name, everything around it was dead, the grass burnt away and the air hazed. The gun smoke slowly dissipated as the guards had spotted him. He had stolen the queens wedding ring, worth a fortune sold on the black market. He new the guards would have his head if they caught him.
.
The guards shouted at him. And quickly charged at Charles, wielding there swords in there right hand. Charles hesitated and jumped in the lake, realizing it was his only hope of hiding from the guards. He was unaware of something, Charles wasn’t human, he was, a half breed if you may. His appearance remained human, but his true soul was conjured up from darkest place in the oblivions.
By willingly jumping in Burcatch, he was brought a curse, to endure hell of the high elf’s. And by this he has to whiteness every single painful aspect of what he was going to endure.
Hell of the high elf’s is two things, the death of an elf, or a punishment by the gods. For an elf, when you die you are reincarnated into a dark elf who, everyday, endures hell on earth. Which gives them there cruel hearted attitude. Most people take pity on an elf, how there so joyful, even though even day they know that they soon will embrace every living nightmare ever mustered up.
Dark elf’s are the cursed second life of the joy some high elf’s. Every day they have a smile of their face and wake up knowing that they second they die they are to endure the same fait as every other elf. In their fiendish hell, they are to endure they ever worst nightmares. Torn to pieces and stitched back to gather by each and every single fear they long wished to never come true.
That all happened when the eldest night elf, Icaag Darkvictor killed the dragon, Nim icerage who was raised by the dwarfen king. Icaag then bathed in its blood in victory, an old tradition for that time. After that day, he and everyone of his kind was cursed into a terrible damnation. After that the high elves refused to believe it. They spent everyday living out their kind and joyful lives, but they still knew what was going to happen the day they die.
When he fell in he couldn’t take the pain, his skin burning away layer by layer. His limbs felt like they were being turn apart and roughly placed back together by a troll, he could feel one by one each rib being torn off, insects crawling in and out of his skull, a both pain full and uneasy feeling.
Charles swiftly threw himself out to the surface of the water and swam across. He dragged himself out and started running as far as he could. For nearly an hour he ran and didn’t stop, forgetting about the guards. His heart raced and his mind was blinded by pain and fear. He stopped running the moment he noticed something, he was lost. He fell to his knees. The pain wouldn’t go away, it was driving him crazy. His mind played terrible tricks on him, making him attack himself, but then he heard a whisper that told him what to do.
“Kill the first person you see.” a strangely familiar voice told him.
He nodded vigorously, completely moronic. Blindly reaching for the first rock he could get his hands on, he stood up, beads of tears and sweat poured down his dark skinned body.
“The first person.” he muttered under his breath, walking deeper into the dense Forest.
Charles looked around, he had recognized what part of the forest he had ran to. He knew an old hermit who lived here. Right by here. But the second that thought came up, bolting rain poured down and blinded him. He continued the up the small path he was on, unknowingly wondering off.
He had walked for what seemed like a day. The rain had only gotten worse, it seemed like it was going to flood, but it never did. Charles reached a small cave, or what seemed like what was a cave. It was hard to tell. Charles walked in, the pain had no longer bothered him, in fact he began to become addicted to it. For two hours he had walked in the dark. Until the found a large stone body sitting on a throne. His demonic hound sitting next to him.
It reminded him of a man from an old story, before there was any order, any law, any rules. Man had become cruel and evil. Most people were Tortured and killed by each other, and the ones that lived were the ones that were the most deleterious.
There weren’t any guards, no kings, nothing. Eventually there was a king, but nothing had changed. The guards were bribed to not put them in jail, the king spent all day watching the indigent families beheaded for stealing a loaf of bread to keep the children alive.
Eventually their tolls had caught up with them, and their price was paid. The dead and the living became one. Light and darkness. But it was always dark, dark enough not to see two feet in front of you. That’s when they came, dark creatures unbearable to describe. Some people say they saw people die just looking at them. They came from everywhere, the trees, houses, the ground, the darkness.
Four seven years the entire world was covered in pitch darkness. These creatures began to slaughter everyone within a hundred feet from them. It was cause, no one would fight back, they just ran and hid. Until one man finally fought back, but not in bravery, but fear of death. He took a bow from the house he had taken shelter in and snuck up behind the first one he could find and wrapped the string of the bow to the creatures neck until it fell limp.
For the first time there was hope, after that he started a resistance, and for twenty years they waged war on them. No one knew how it happened, they could barely even see. It was the pitch darkness was the evil that had surrounded them whole. Their evil. They’re crackling laughter of pain and suffering had brought them themselves death. And when they knew that, when the world had enough of this. It stopped.
Twenty years later they finally got back to order, this time, a real order. The emperor was that very man that saved all those people, Siegfried. But to Charles unknowing, there was a connection to that man. Charles stood up, he wore what a normal man would wear in his time, old used up clothes. He was five foot six and his hair was long and black, and by his appearance he looked about twenty two.
He stared at the cold dead statue, the mans face looked identical to his. It was a very awkward moment for him. Charles quickly drew his attention off when he heard an old man scatter away from him. This was his chance. He thought in his head as he followed the voice.
Charles could hear the man speak to him, scattering away further into the small cave. “No! Leave me alone!” he shouted.
His cries for help wouldn’t help him Charles thought. He ran towards him until he could see the old man. Charles quickly raised up the rock he continued to hold and bashed the rock on the olds man head, knocking him to the rough ground. Charles jumped on top of the man and began to repeatedly batter the old man with the rock.
After about ten minutes he stopped his onslaught against the poor helpless man. The little mans body was covered in blood and giant bruises. Charles shifted off the man and started at his dead corpse as the pain went away.
To him it wasn’t a loss to kill a man. As a thief Charles was use to doing the cruel and selfish to live and get his way. In a way like a small child if you think about it in a disturbing way. Charles anchored himself up and just took one last glimpse at the man and walked out of the cave. Dropping the rock right before he left the entrance of the cave. A little bit of blood dripped from his hand from holding the rock so tight for so long.
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