Young Writers Society

This is a continuation from where I left off in the first part. IMO this is the better portion of the prologue. I hope you enjoy it.

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Once the knights were a safe distance away, Bellin removed himself from his wooden concealment.

The moment had finally come. Destiny beckoned and Bellin heard its call. Looking not but a street's length away, he could see his destination, the Temple of the Phoenix.

With as much stealth and speed as he could muster, Bellin dashed across the span separating him from the temple. The building was massive, towering nearly fifty feet above the ground, but oddly, no damage had seemed to come to its exterior. The giant, wooden door, the white, stone walls, even the stained glass windows remained in pristine condition while all that surrounded it lay disheveled and charred. In fact, it, the temple, seemed to be exuding an aura of light as if in defiance of the invaders' triumph.

Bellin had notice all of those that as he opened the door and passed the threshold, but he hadn't the time to marvel at the temple's state for what awaited him inside was a much more pressing matter. The interior was just as mysteriously undisturbed. The rows of benches which stood on either side of the room's center aisle, the strip of carpet leading from the front entrance to the far end along that same aisle, and the pedestal for the leader of the sermon which was positioned just at the carpeting's end all below a mural depicting a fiery bird embracing the world in its flaming exuberance, it all seemed so familiar.

Every detail was exactly how he remembered, tranquil and quiet, just as the city had once been. Those new surroundings seemed to influence Bellin, and all doubt began to fade from his mind, overwhelmed by a sense of calm.

He walked over to the pedestal and rested Arc on its flat top. He then pulled down Arc's cloth cover, exposing his right arm and back, and grasped a small carving knife from a sheath at his waist. With the blade raised above his son, Bellin became hesitant. His desire to protect Arc was strong but his fatherly instincts ebbed at his heart.

"Arc, understand that I do this only to bring you safety and give you a chance at life," Bellin poured out in an apologetic tone. Having reassured himself with those words, he secured Arc's arm against the wood of the pedestal and began carving a set of runes into his skin. The blade was just deep enough to draw blood but, even so, it took all of Bellin's strength to become so indifferent that he could ignore the incessant cries of his child.

Like a true artisan, Bellin carved a masterpiece of curves and intricate designs along Arc's arm and, once done, he flipped the boy so he lay on his stomach and continued working upon his back.

It wasn't until the entirety of Arc's back glistened crimson that Bellin removed the knife. Looking down at his art, he felt satisfied. Then, using the cloth, he wiped the blood from Arc's body revealing an array of symbols which met upon the width of his, Arc's, upper back, forming the image of a bird much like the one shown in the mural above them. Arc's cries lessened as the pain from the wounds subsided and, within a minute or so, completely ceased.

At the sight of his injured so, Bellin's emotions stirred. He felt sickened with himself and was almost brought to tears, but he knew the entire ordeal would be done with soon. He knelt beside the pedestal and clasped his hands together while focusing on a window at the temple's back wall.

"Oh, great Phoenix, father of humanity, it is I Bellin, your humble follower. I have acted upon your bidding and now, in my hour of need, I beg you to follow through on your offerings. Deliver my son from the horrors of this city and grant him the power to save this land and its people from the sufferings which threaten to consume them," Bellin pleaded. For a few moments he remained still, awaiting an answer, until a spark of flame came to life just above Arc. He, Bellin, watched as the flame grew, eventually blazing with vigor and finally embracing his son, but rather than yelp in pain Arc appeared to be at ease within the fire.

The Phoenix had answered and Arc's reaction had it made it obvious. "I thank you'" Bellin said as the flames grew so vibrant that he could no longer see his child.

A short time after, the blaze began to recede and he could see that his son was no longer contained in its embers. Knowing that all was well and that he had done everything he possibly could, Bellin's vision shifted back to the window and the fearful sight which had arisen in its display. His face contorted to an expression of fright and rage for what could be seen was the precursor to to the sufferings he had previously described.

Far off in the distant skies the omen could be seen. A mass of flame, much like those which had ensnared Arc, shone in the appearance of a fearsome dragon. Bellin knew what the insignia meant but that would have to a battle for another day because, just as the thought of new, possible threats entered his mind, a trio of the invading knights bound in through the temple doors.

"It appears a survivor has slipped through our fingers. We wouldn't want to have to report a failure to the general would we men?" snickered the man who seemed to be leading the group.

Bellin looked about the men and their dingy green armor, relieved that he no longer had a reason to suppress his fury.

"How dare you enter the house of the great creator with such taint clinging to your souls. I will not allow you to desecrate these grounds with your presence any further!" Bellin roared.

"The great creator?" The leader questioned, "So, then you must be the one. The ridiculous, self-proclaimed prophet who claims to speak with the "Almighty Phoenix". Bellin, right? Well, "prophet" know that it is not our souls which are tainted but yours, for if not for your accusations of the coming second rising then we wouldn't have needed to siphon off you and your little town here."

"Yes, your right. The responsibility for this town's leveling does weigh upon and I may never be able to repent for my faults but,......" Bellin stopped as an odd yet familiar sensation ran through out his body. Almost immediately his demeanor began to change from that of a civilized man into one more befitting a beast. From his pupils extended slashes of red where brown had once resided, his shoulder blades slid into positions further apart from each other, and his upper body slumped downward as his leg set into a sturdy, wide stance. He grasped the handle of his knife in a grip which threatened to shatter it and dashed towards the men without a second of hesitation or warning.

"But I would rather die attempting to claim vengeance for my fallen loved ones than live with this guilt!" Bellin finished as the men unsheathed their weapons.