This is the first part to the prologue of "The Tales of Arc" a rough draft for a book I'm writing. Critiquing and feedback as to how compelling, or not, the story is would be appreciated. I hope you enjoy.
A Father's Love
The sun had just set in the distance giving way to the tides of night as an air of change set upon the land.
"Darkness..." Bellin thought sorrowfully, "Such a thing is truly symbolic of the deeds I have caused." Rising from his seated position he inched towards the crevice separating his place of hiding from the war-ravaged city outside. Securing his grasp on the small bundle of cloth which he nestled against his chest, Bellin set his eyes upon the remnants of the town he had once called home.
His gaze was met with the sight of debris and the blood and corpses of the fallen populace, all illuminated by the flames which danced about ravaging the land. He was horrified and with his mouth agape he was able to mouth a single whisper, "Why?" His breath became shallow and his teeth clenched as anger consumed him.
"Why!" he bellowed as he bound out from his concealment and dashed forth among the rubble which lay asunder. Whether or not he was running in the right direction was not a matter as long as he was able to distance himself from that scene.
Maintaining a firm hold on the bundle of cloth, Bellin raced onward ignoring the cries of his body, all the while being tormented by his own mind with images of the horrors of the recent past. The entire spectrum of misery set to picture and sound, that is what played out before him. Unable to bare the mental agony, he fell to his knees taking shallow, quivering breaths. He no longer had the will to carry on.
His body slumped in depression but once his gaze shifted downward he was restored with vigor and his spirits were uplifted, for laying within the cloth was all the motivation he needed.
"I'm sorry," Bellin said softly, " Throughout this entire ordeal I have focused only on the impact this has had on myself and in doing so I have forgotten my duties. Arc, my son, this world needs you. Upon your back rests the fate of all things, and I cannot deny you your destiny."
Arc, who lay quietly in his father's arms, did not respond to Bellin's words for he was not of the age of speaking, instead he bore into his, Bellin's, eyes with the curiosity most babies share. It was then that Bellin's consciousness of his surroundings returned allowing him to hear a faint tapping that drew nearer with every passing second. Knowing the great danger that noise could impose, he began searching for some form of cover.
Underneath a heap of wood, he hid leaving only a small slit for sight. His heart began to thunder with anticipation as the emitters of the sound came into view. Clad in iron chain mail and leggings and each bolstering a deadly broadsword at their waists, three knights walked passed Belli and Arc without giving any notice to the visions of disparity they surpassed.
Once again, Bellin was encompassed by a blazing fury while those men tread without a care. Those were the men who had done all of this. Them and their comrades had devastated nearly everything Bellin had held dear, and it was for that reason he wished to reap the most horrid vengeance upon them, but now was not the time to do so, especially in the presence of his infant son.
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