Realm of twilight.: Dawn.

October 21, 2008
By Tim James, MT. Vernon, OH

Alchemist Richard Skelris cringed as the footsteps stopped, and the door of the room flew open.

"How much longer?"

Richard shakingly turned toward the newcomer.

"Three weeks at least, it's very complex, I'm not sure how I even got this far-"

"It better be ready. For your sake, I hope."

With a slam of the door, the Alchemist was left to his work.


A tall man stood atop a cliff overlooking ruins of a grand city. He was dressed in a jet black trench coat, with a sword hilt strapped to his leather belt. A single glove over his right hand seemed to stand out from his relatively simple outfit. He had a scar running from his forehead , across his eye, and down to his cheek.

With an air of grace, He slowly drew a map out of his trenchcoat and unrolled it over the grass.

“Toward the south side….”

He muttered under his breath, and then returned the map to its place within his coat. He stood up and took a breath, then threw himself off the edge. With a sudden twist, he vaulted himself off the face of the cliff and caught onto one of towers of the nearest building. After he caught his breath, he tied a piece of rope to the supports, and lowered himself down.

“Heh, easy.”

He turned and walked through the ruined streets, until he found the building he was looking for; a graveyard’s mausoleum. It was boarded up with rotting planks of wood, and with a sharp kick, Zanros easily knocked them out and walked inside. He took out the map and looked it over.
“Right turn, easy enough, "

He said. Carefully, he walked over to a hallway on the back wall, turned to the right, and went into a small room. A tall pedestal stood in the middle, a empty socket resting on the head.
“What? No!?”

Zanros steped into the room, shaking his fist in fury, and spotted a discarded sword laying on the stone floor. He stooped to pick it up and after looking it over, he slid it out of it’s scabbard. It was a very fine blade, better then Zanros’ current one. An odd black jewel rested in the hilt. Zanros slowly slid his gloved finger over the gem, unleashing a flurry of black fire, arcing across the blade.
“Wragh! “

He dropped the sword in surprise, and the fire stopped. Carefully, Zanros picked it back up and looked it over.

“A soul-blade….. Amazing…, my lucky day.”

He grasped it firmly and thrust it towards the sky, tendrils of water slowly wrapped around the blade.

"Hmn, allready bound...."

Zanros's grasped the tendril and pressed it to his forehead.

"Appears the owner's dead, fair game now..."

The tendril suddenly flashed, and started to turn black.

"I Dub you: Darkinem!"

* * *
Halfway across the ruined city, a winged, demon-like man bent over a yellowed book and muttered to himself.
He had the appearance of a powerful figure, a great scholar, but infected with insanity.

He drew a dagger from his tattered robes, and flashed it across his arm, pooling the blood into a sigil on the stone under his feet.


He pressed his clawed hand into the ground, and a ring of light formed around him.

The blood splattered across the stone slithered throughout the carvings, and began to glow, as the light shot up into the night.

Then three pillars of fire sprang up and began to rotate around the circle, as the winged man stood up.

"It's...... It's working...."

* * *

Zanros stepped outside. As he walked, he turned his eyes toward his gloved hand.

"So close.....

He looked up toward the knight sky.

"I swear however long it takes-"

He spotted the pillars of light arching toward the sky, piercing the darkness of the night.

"What the-"

The fire then shot back into the ground, and then a insignia of red energy flashed across the sky, shaped like a Wolf's skull.

"What the- WHAT THE HELL!"

* * *

Tendrils of shadows grasped across the sigil on the ground, as the winged man lept back, a deep vioce emitted a deep laugh.

"Why, thank you, Re'atr."

Re'atr's eyes widened as the shadows closed around themselves, forming into a human shape.

"Without you, I might of been trapped for another ten years!"

Suddenly, Zanros Zan over to the sigil and drew his sword.

"You...... YOU!"

He looked over and spotted re'atr, who had fallen backwards on the ground.

"Do you have any IDEA what you did! You imbecile!"

He turned toward The shadowy man, who had just finished building himself, with a scream, he charged and swung his sword. But his opponent swung his arm out to meet it, as a sword formed in his hands.

"My, it's been awhile, Zanros.... i've been craving a good fight."

"Shut up, Adeth, you've never fought clean."

Zanros flashed his sword out, cleaving through adeth's arm, but as the blade met his flesh, the arm faded into the shadows, and the blade passed through, with a twist of his arm, Adeth lashed across Zanros'a arm.


"You fool..."

Adeth pointed toward a cord of energy arcing between him and re'atr.

"I'm draining his Consciousness, fueling the recovery of my own power."

He held out his arm, as it faded back into existence.

"You see-"


Zanros lunged foreward, as Adeth prepared for attack, Zanros suddenly dodged and cut the cord.

"That should slow your recovery down!"

Adeth Chuckled.


Adeth locked eyes with Re'atr.

"Just not fast enough."

Adeth's shadow body warped and changed, sprouting wings akin to Re'atr's.

"Sorry we can't finish this, but I really must be going."

With that comment, He lept into the air and Vanished to the night.


Zanros stoped himself.

"No use now...."

The swordsman fell to his feet.

"What the-"

He looked at the wound, Black energy was creeping across the blood that was seeping out.

"Oh snap-"

He fell to the ground.


Dimor rolled the dice cooly across the table.

"Hmm, seems I win again. Pity, for you...." He smirked as he cought the coin tossed at him.

He was a rather young man, but held a aura of power and wisdom. He was dressed in a white jacket that fit with his ,oddly enough, snow white hair.

"Another round, Zartheleos?"

Across the table sat a strongly built man, wearing a chain-mail shirt and leather pants, a broadsword was leaned aganst his chair.

In a quiet but powerfull voice he replyed. "Shure, I might get lucky, and, we've got nothing else to do."

As he picked up the dice, a hooded man walked up to the pair's table.

"I'm looking for Dimor, The "Spirit hunter"."

Dimor slouched back in his chair and suddenly found his fingernails worth looking over.

"Ah, I expected you to arrive sooner." He grinned slyly. "So, what are you after?" He pulled over a chair and qestured hor him to sit, but the robed figure shook his head.

"I'm just to give information. Your target is a scyn’raj, he was expelled from his order for treason, but seems to have lost his sanity. We need him removed."

Dimor smirked again. "A scyn’raj you say? well, those are pre-tty powerfull targets..." He locked eyes with the hooded man. "Will it be worth our time?"

The man took a bag out of his robes and handed it to Dimor, who slowly opened it.

"Hm, nice ammount of-"

"I was also to give you this."

He took out a yellowed scroll and laid it on the table.

"It's runes, I was told you would be intesested in them."

Dimor slowly unrolled it, and rased an eyebrown in suprise.

"Well, it seems you have a mercenary."

The author's comments:
The first chapter of A book I've been working on for awhile, and am starting to write it down.

The name's still being tossed around.

Please comment!

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