Intro:
The storm was growing ever closer, and as it grew in size it was very clear that they were in grave danger. Everything was silent, no voices bickering, no mice scuttling around on the floor, scavenging for spare crumbs of food. No sound what so ever; except for the giant thunder storm approaching at surprising speed.
No one breathed, no one said anything, and all was quiet. Then a voice ripped through the silence; “So what, we’re just going to sit here and be swept away by this monstrous storm?” it was a harsh, gruff voice, which seemed to come from an old man.
“What else can we possibly do Oliver? We were doomed from the start, there is no escaping now. We must-“
“We must nothing! You have a choice Romulus! Death is not the only path you can take.”
“Ah but it is Oliver. I do not like it any more than you do. But death is the only consequence for our actions.” This voice was calm and soft; its speaker could not be more than twenty years old.
Then another loud and childish voice spoke up: “I don’t wanna’ die! I wanna’ see Jack again!”
“You can’t Meg. He’s- he’s...” spoke Romulus.
“No! He’s not dead! I know he’s not dead! He can’t be dead...” her voice cracked at the end. And she was silent.
For what seemed like years it was silent, but it was only minutes. Waves crashed against the shore, and the blackness of the small room concealed all of the nine people’s faces. Only low coughing could be heard from the darkness, a little girl was coughing hard and loudly, she seemed to be very sick. Finally there came a banging against the door; shouts broke out: “It’s locked!” called one.
“We have to knock it down!” shrieked a girl’s voice.
”It won’t budge!” screamed a younger boy’s voice.
“Damnit!” shouted the first voice again.
Cries of indignation came from the door; people were trying to get in. But no, they could not and would not step over this house’s threshold. It was their own fault they were stuck outside. Romulus stood up angrily; “Go away scum!” he bellowed, then the noise ceased, and there were not more banging and yelling. Again thunder tore through the stormy sky, spreading a flash of light over the land. It was a cobble stone road, and the houses were placed in a circle around the town square. Rain was now pounding hard against the house the four people were in, then quite suddenly the candle lit.
Romulus was tall, and dangly, his skin was pale and his bright brown hair was matted on his head, his bright green eyes were gleaming in the sudden burst of light. Romulus was sitting next to a small girl, her eyes were a piercing pink, her hair fell to her shoulders, and the back went down to her waist and was a warm chocolate brown color.
Oliver stood in a corner, a cigarette in his mouth, he was shorter than Romulus, but more muscular. He was still thin though, he had a handsome face, a scar ran down his right eye, making him look slightly scary, he had semi long daffodil yellow hair that mostly covered his eyes , he wore a milk chocolate brown pilot jacket, with a fur lined hood. He wore maroon red, fingerless gloves that were attached to his coat. His eyes were a deep and empty gray, and were barely noticeable through his hair.
Next to him sat a short man, he had long stringy, silvery gray hair that completely covered his face. A cigar was sticking out of the tangle of hair, sending a faint light over his body. He wore a pitch black traveling cloak, and his boots were the exact same color as his deep red eyes. His teeth were yellow and his nose was long and misshapen, he probably had gotten it broken in the earlier years of his life. He seemed to be at least sixty years old. Then a loud roaring sound reached their ears, screaming and tearing sounds ripped through the air, everyone began scrambling around, the houses were getting torn out of the ground, people were screaming and flying through the air. And the house, was gone. And all was silent...
Chapter one: The Message
Book One: Dante’s path
The hearth fire was crackling and burning away the ashes of the gleaming skull lodged tightly in between two pitch black logs. A man sitting an armchair laughed softly to himself, maybe remembering a joke? No, he was not laughing at something that would amuse normal mortal humans. He continued to laugh quietly while the sound of pounding rain pattered around the manor house, mixing with the crackling fire and making a kind of clattering of chains sound that echoed around the room.
Suddenly the laughing ceased and the man stood up to show that he was quite tall. Six feet to be exact, with long midnight black elf ears. A couple earrings that looked like dragon tails dangled from his ears. He was not buff however, he was dangly and his arms were the size of normal men. He wore a black trench coat with designs of glittering red and purple dragons lining the bottom. His hair was chalk-white and ran down to his shoulders, hiding his cold, glittering silver eyes. His skin was marble white with strange pitch black symbols that looked like Elfish tattooed over his chest.
And then he quite suddenly he raised his hand and muttered a few prayers and blue smoke began to swirl, from his open palm, into the commons room, slithering in and out of cracks and crevasses. Chilling the air, the blue smoke made tiny screaming sounds - as if millions of small people were getting tortured.
Chuckling softly, the man bent down and grasped a small puff of smoke. He raised his hand and looked down into his cupped palm. Suddenly he spat onto the ground and muttered something about “False renderings,” and waved his right arm.
The smoke evaporated almost as soon as it had come in, leaving the fire place cold and damp – empty of flame. Silence echoed around the room, and finally the man sat down and propped his head up on one arm, resting his shoulder on the arm-chair’s right arm and holding up his head with his hand.
Lost in deep thought the man did not notice the boy who looked like he was around twelve years old creeping into the room and snatching up a few stale bread crusts left by the man’s snack.
The boy was thin and he was quite pale, it didn’t look like he was allowed to eat frequently. He began to tip-toe out of the room but the man stood up from his chair and in a cold and harsh voice roared: “You, how dare you try to come in here. You’re not fed until you are until the moon is full! Get out!” cowering, the boy shrieked and scuttled out of the small living room.
Sighing, the man sank back into the armchair. He sat there, pondering something for a moment, and then stood once more. The man, odd as it may seem, clapped three times and with a swirl of dark smoke and a blood red robes; a man appeared before the other, taller, one. “You called my liege?” said the shorter man in a gruff, low voice.
“Yes, I did. I have found a small job for you. Would you like to take it?” inquired the taller man.
“Oh yes, thank you, thank you my liege,” said the servant bowing; “I would do anything to please you my liege.”
Grinning toothily the “liege” said: “I would like you to find the man with the name of Tyson.”
“Who, if you do not mind me asking, is Tyson?” questioned the servant.
“Ah, an old friend of mine my dear Victor; Tyson is in possession of an item that I had requested him to make. Could you go and fetch it for me?”
Taken a back by the simplicity of the job Victor said “I just have to go a pick this item up?” in an abashed voice.
“No, you must take it from him. He doesn’t want to give it to me, how sad. He is, for lack of a better word, obsessed with it. He apparently did not know his own skill. So, you might have to fight him for it. I am not sure how powerful he is but you might want to be careful.” He smiled, “Good bye Victor. Good luck.”
“Good bye master Dante.” And with that, Victor disappeared.
Outside the manor house, in the horrid weather, there stood a man, in an elegant, satin blue suit of regal armor. Helmet tucked under his left arm, his long, straight, tangerine orange hair fluttering in the wind, he stared up at the manor house. A marble white steed neighed at his side; the horse’s name was Quick-Silver. “Whoa there Quicky,” The knight muttered softly, “it’s just rain, we won’t be here for long. I just need to make a short visit.” The man had a handsome face; his eyes were a shocking shade of purple, a very odd color for eyes. He had a sort of long nose, and freckles spread across his nose. He was tall, probably six feet and four inches tall. And his skin was sort of pale and sort of tan.
Rubbing the horse’s head he shivered slightly. Even under that armor the wind was very bothersome and chilly. He put his helmet on, drew his sword from its sheath, and started trudging off to the door. His horse followed obediently.
A sharp rapping sound, at the door in the main room, reached Dante’s ears. He stood and strode over to the door, he swung it open to find himself facing a knight dressed in kingly looking, velvet blue regal armor; “Well hello. To what do I owe this visit?” asked Dante in a harsh, cold voice.
“Hello my dear fiend. I am Siegfried; a night of the Guard of Urithiam. I was sent here as a messenger and –”
“Get on with it.” hissed Dante.
Taken aback, Siegfried continued: “The King, Arone, requests your presence at the Council of the Three Gates. Your voice is needed to speak for Seeranie.”
“Ah, I am needed am I?” exclaimed Dante; “Well, when is the date of this ‘council’?”
“Next week at day break.” replied Siegfried matter-a-factly.
Dante nodded imperiously: “I shall be there. And I shall ride back there with you. That way I will not be late.”
“What? You’re coming with me? Are you sure you want to do that?” cringed Siegfried.
“Oh yes, I do not want to be late or anything. Just let me ready my horse and we shall be off.”
Siegfried nodded and said: “I shall wait here.”
Victor was trudging down the road caked with snow. Soft crunching sounds came from his feet as they made indents in the snow. A large duel bladed axe was slung over his right shoulder. Every breath he took sent cold air, turned into some kind of cloud, shooting from his mouth. A crow chirped in the forest, coming ever closer. His job was to find four people and take one item back; and one of the people back. The boy he was to take back was around the age of thirteen or fourteen and went by the name of Chronos. He was a demon of time. Victor was to bring him along to the tower of time, located in the great city of Urithiam. A horrendous war was coming in the future not to far from then. And this certain war was said to end all civilization on this planet known as: Synophia.
“Why must everything be taken to me? Why must I do all the work?” Victor demanded of the cold winter air. “Does everything happen because of me? Am I the messenger of prophecy? I wish I knew; I wish I knew my fate.”
But he could not know his fate. He was, however we must reveal, the messenger of prophecy. Like a guardian angel; almost. He was the man, whose job and profession was to bring and lead every hero to his or her destiny, and usually his or her death. It was all up to Victor, to safely bring the heroes of this world to their fate. He did not like it though; it was only a waste of precious time to him.
He still did his duty however. It was still his life and the only thing that could occupy his time. In other words; it was all he had. So off he went, to get the item from Dante’s friend.
Victor had not been walking long when a cloaked figure jumped out in front of him and yelled “Get him!” Before Victor could react, before he could’ve even retorted, a boy with long, straight, dark golden yellow hair jumped out from the bushes and tackled Victor. The boy grabbed him by the shirt collar and threw him sideways. Victor went flying about twenty feet then hit a tree trunk. But even before he could fall to the ground; the boy came running at him and punched him hard in the gut.
Up close Victor saw that the boy’s bangs were slanted to the left side so that one of his eyes was covered and was only semi long. His bangs had fallen over his eyes though, and they reached about the boy’s chin. The hair slanted downward from the side to the back. It reached the bottom of the back of his neck in the back.
It looked odd to Victor, but then again, the boy was wearing tight black pants and a skin tight shirt with odd words on it; “Dance Gavin Dance.”
Victor, ignoring the boy’s odd appearance, kicked outward; sending the boy sliding backwards ten feet. Now another, somewhat smaller, boy ran out from the bushes. This boy was wearing the same kind of pants as the other boy but with a cloak and a hooded sweatshirt beneath. His hair was longer than the other boys and dark gold blonde. He jumped up into the air and landed a kick right onto Victor’s head.
Victor’s face met the snow covered ground and he made a muffled sound of indignation.
Scrambling to his feet, Victor tripped the other boy and side kicked him into the air. With a smashing sound the boy hit the top of a tree and fell to the ground with a soft thud. He moved no more. Now the taller figure was advancing on Victor. Victor knew he could not fight this man, he was tall and an unmistakable power radiated from his form. But then he cried; “Victor; oh my gawd Victor!”
Victor was no very confused; “Cuirose? Is that you?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes Victor! It’s me Cuirose! Oh what a pleasure it is to meet you again!” Cuirose shook Victor’s hand vigorously smiling brightly.
The taller boy was helping the other up and once they were both up right, they stood staring at the two. Mouths open, gawking at them, their eyes wide with confusion.
Chapter two: The Acquaintance
Cuirose was tall, at least seven feet tall to be exact; his hair was long and midnight black, the bangs were long enough to cover his entire face, but Cuirose pushed it out of his eyes so that it was flipped to one side. Cuirose wore a long ashen black trench coat; the hood hid his face in darkness, making it look like he had no face at all. But Cuirose’s eyes were the most stunning part of his appearance, they were the color of silver; but they were odd eyes, they did not seem to contain any emotion at all. The empty eyes gleamed in the sunlight as Cuirose spoke to Victor.
Victor stood there beaming; “My dear friend Cuirose. What a pleasure it is to meet you again.”
“Yes, I agree. Sorry about my sons. The taller boy is Chase, otherwise known as Chronos. And the small -”
“Did you say Chronos? You, boy! I have been sent to find you and send you on a quest.” Interrupted Victor, his eyes had opened wide when he heard the name “Chronos” It was the name of the boy he was to find. He had already found him. And in such good time! Maybe, just maybe, Victor would be able to bring Chronos to the Tower of Time in the city of Urithiam before the war fell upon the worlds.
Cuirose gaped at Victor; “Are you telling me, that my son is to go on a quest; at his present age?”
“Yes; the world is at stake here Cuirose. There is a horrid war looming upon the horizon. If we let this war crash down on us – I fear these alliances will fall; and the planet will be thrown into chaos.”
Chase was skinny and tall, he looked at least fourteen. He had dark golden blonde hair, which fell over his face. His appearance was stunning, he had a handsome face with a slightly long nose, and freckles spread across the area around his nose. His skin was slightly pale and his arms seemed weak. But if raised and flexed it was clear that Chase was well exercized, he had a six pack instead of just a skinny chest, he was well built, although he seemed quite slim.
But his eyes were nothing like his father’s; they were a deep, piercing electric blue. And they had a determined and rebellious look in them.
Chase stood there dumbstruck. It seemed as if the whole world was relying on him; Chase, to be their savior. But he couldn’t do something like that. No, it was beyond his power and will. He would have to step up right now and say “I can’t do it.” No sooner had he thought it then the words had come out of his mouth.
“Oh no, you have no choice. It is the prophecy. You must do it. Or you shall die.”
“No! I will not take this! I’m not up to something of this magnitude.”
Victor scowled at this boy, “You are selfish. You don’t think you’re strong enough do you? Well fine, I shall give you one year to go about your training. But then, if you are not yet ready, I’ll kill you, and the whole world will know that you were to cowardly to fight back!”
At this point Jack stepped in, enraged he shouted: “And how the bloody hell do you know this ‘prophecy’,” Jack made quotation signs with his fingers around the word “prophecy” and made his voice a high pitched mocking voice of Victor; “will even happen? Huh!? Can’t tell us that can you? Well how about this you slime ball,” Jack took a step closer to Victor, and jabbed a finger into his chest; “how about you go and fulfill this quest you so urgently speak of, how about you do it? How does that sound huh?” Jack stepped back, his face twitched with anger and Victor stood speechless before the three demons.
“But I –“Victor started.
“Exactly, you’re not allowed to do it. Well that’s just a pile of crap. You just think you’re not supposed to do it, but you can. This shows that you are oblivious to choices and freeness.” Retorted Jack triumphantly, his tone was full of resent and his left eye twitched to a point where it was quite unbearable to look at him.
“But I. You have to. My job. Time shortens...” spluttered Victor, clearly looking lost; his eyes were bugging out of their sockets, it would’ve been comical, but for the fact that Jack was slowly and menacingly unsheathing his great broad sword from his back. “Now answer me this Victor,” snarled Jack, raising his sword to face Victor, “My brother is only fourteen. And I’m only thirteen. I may not know that much about these prophecies crap; but I do know that life is not all planned out for us. We all aren’t just puppets being controlled by one puppeteer. This is life, not a game. And you seem to only think that life is just a game and that giant beings are moving our pieces over the playing board. Well let me tell you something Vicky,” he sneered the name in a mock motherly tone; “you can go back to your master and tell him you failed and be damned with it!” and with that Jack thrust his sword into the snow, and continued to look furiously at Victor.
And at this point in time we must draw your attention to our dear friend Chase. Who was standing in the snow, quite befuddled, the fact that his brother had actually stood for him was something else, but the fact that Jack didn’t want Chase to go onto the quest – which most certainly would end in death – and instead stay with him and Cuirose was just so baffling that Chase couldn’t believe those words had been flowing ever louder and quicker from his brother’s mouth. “Jack you don’t have to –“murmured Chase, looking abashed.
Jack turned on him, rage still etched into his face: “No Chase. I do have to do this. You and I both know that neither you nor I are up to something of that importance. Cuirose of course would be up to it, and Cuirose would have an easy time completing the quest. He is not like us; his power is of such a greater magnitude that we probably couldn’t even touch him in a fight. He would probably slay us in at least ten seconds: maybe even less. It is not your path, you know why you were brought into this world, neither of us like it, but that’s the truth. And we have to stick with what Antonia said.”
Chase and Cuirose exchanged a solemn nod with each other before they heard Victor let out a very spasmodic cry of pain and heard then thud of a body. The threesome turned to see what seemed to be the problem, and what they suspected was wrong, Chase was the one who had thought the worse, and his beliefs were, at this present moment in time, made true, but only somewhat.
Victor lay sprawled out on the forest floor, blood oozing from a gash on his face, his eyes were large with shock, and there was a splatter of blood on the ground, which seemed out of place, for there was no lager gash or any other injury noticeable on Victor’s unconscious form. Then Jack leaped back with a cry of pain and fell to the ground, quite as white as Victor, and apparently unconscious. Cuirose seemed to have lost his patience made a slashing motion with his hand, at first it would’ve seemed quite stupid and inappropriate in a time of crisis as such they were in, but as soon as he lifted his arm and opened the palm of his hand, the foot long, leather wrapped, steel handle of a sword started to dissolve into his hand, then the hilt – which was a rectangle shape and was made of dragon scale steel – then a blade that was eight feet long easy. Its blade seemed to be splattered in small drops of blood but then they formed into elfin markings, which spread themselves across the middle of flat side of the blade. The blade was a gleaming white; it was apparently forged from the fang from a considerably large dragon.
And as Chase looked up to see what was the matter he saw a man, covered from head to toe in gleaming marble white armor. A black pony tail sprouted from out the back of the helmet from which two fiery orange eyes were staring menacingly out at Cuirose. Then the knight let out a roar and raised a huge glaive, and he slashed downward at Chase. Chase leapt back, successfully dodging the fierce attempt at murder. And with incredible speed, Chase summoned a huge ten foot lance, it had kind of a jousting blade at the front, but it was sharp and could cut through anything at all. Its blade was made of the purest mythrial and its long handle was wrapped in blue leather. Chase let out a roar of anger and swung the lance in a perfect three hundred and sixty degree turn, three times. Every time the lance’s blade reached the knight it bashed him to one side, and finally with the third and final swing the knight was sent flying into a tree. Chase smirked triumphantly; he thought he had made quick work of the opposing knight. But Chase was mistaken, and the knight was soon on his feet laughing. He had a deep powerful voice that rang inside Chase’s and Cuirose’s heads and for a moment there were both stunned; and in that instant the knight knocked Cuirose aside with the flat of his blade, and cut a deep cut in Chase’s shoulder.
Chase let out a shriek of pain and jabbed hard at the knight, it was a direct hit and the knight was thrown to the ground by the jab’s force. Chase staggered back, clutching his bleeding shoulder with his right hand and letting the lance fall to the ground with a soft thud. Cuirose however, was ready and he slashed upward at the knight. At first glance it seemed that the attack had missed, however to everyone’s impending surprise; the knight’s chest plate split perfectly in half. With a cry of shock the knight recoiled, now that he was defenseless and open to any deadly attacks, his chances of killing the father and son were greatly diminished, but dear reader we do not yet know the exact strength of this lone knight, or if he had brought friends so let’s not get our hopes up.
The knight staggered upright and let out a snarl of rage and raised his sword high into the air. With a blood curdling roar the opposing knight charged. Cuirose was still unbalanced from the fierce swing’s he had sent at the mystery knight when the man charged; Cuirose tried to stagger out of the way, but he was too slow. The knight laughed and whacked Cuirose hard in the side with the flat of his blade. Cuirose fell over, dazed, but still conscious. Chase was now a stand alone warrior, the last man standing, or at least we thought the knight was not one of the Earth’s offspring. Nay, that would not be to correct term to use for a creature of different race than human, all who stand tall upon the Earth are her children. Nay, we would name this unknown being a creature. We are not sure of the creature’s heritage or its parents, but it must not be human. For as he turned to face Chase there was a gleam of red, and the snarl of a dog: almost a bark, but to subtle. A miniscule roar and the nose of a wolf might’ve been seen, along with a few silvery whiskers. Chase, to up our hero’s advantages of smiting this foul beast, was ready with an attack we would’ve thought our hero wouldn’t have been able to obtain. And before the creature’s red eyes, time began to slow; it let out a husky gagging sound and clutched at its throat. And that was the last thing the monster did.
Chase walked ever so calmly over to the offender of peace, and lowered his helmet. Chase recoiled; under the helmet was a misshapen head, twisted in a sort of spiral; as if the skin was being sucked into its head. Half of this disgusting head was covered in a mass of orange fur, so yes; we had been close to deciphering our hero’s enemy. It was a tiger, or at least half a tiger. Apparently the man had once been a man, but in his anger he chose to change into his animal form. Chase had stopped him dead in his tracks of fusion, however, and halfway through his transformation Chase had stopped time.
Where a nose once lay there was a muzzle, with ten marble white whiskers. One of this man’s eyes was a bright golden yellow, located on the tiger side: the other eye was forest green and bloodshot; as if he had not gotten a good night’s sleep for days.
Chase took another step back, studying this strange monster. “Death is the only path you shall take this lovely afternoon my opponent...” Chase spoke softly as he picked up his lance. “A worthy enemy you might’ve been, but now you are weak and defenseless. And I never forgive those who attack my brother...” Chase raised his head to face the man once more, his eyes half full of disgusted sympathy, half full of rage. “And now you die!” he shouted, and thrust his lance forward, but at an angle, so that he jabbed directly at the misshapen head. There was a horrid squelching sound, a tearing and cracking sound, and finally a splatter of blood on the white snow.
A corpse hit the ground silently, and blood leaked out from the severed neck onto the cold unforgiving snow. Chase let out a sad sigh, and dropped his lance. At the very edge of the lance, there was the head of the monster that had previously attacked the newly acquainted party of four. The head’s mouth was hanging open, a look of stunned silence of its face; as if it had been too horrified to even say a word, but only to gawk at its killer. Chase snapped his fingers, and time regained itself. Suddenly the entire world began moving again, and for a moment Chase stood, his fists clenched, and staring angrily down at the snow. “Why must everything end in death?” he questioned the world at large; “Will this Earth end in death? Will all wars end with the death of someone important? May it be; will all quarrels end in violence or a parting of the ways? Why must it be?” The answer Chase, is no. Not all fights and wars end with a death. Eventually we as living organisms realize that life isn’t worth living if all we do is look down upon our followers; or if we only see the bad in the many varied events that take place in our lives. There is always hope, there is always a light, there is always a face shining with impenetrable happiness. To some, the glass is only half full. Even the thought of considering doom could repulse some men. Those are the men, women, children, elves, demons, cat demons, gods, angels, Cyclopes, animals, shape shifters, goddesses, lizards, and other mythical beings and beasts that keep this world moving and in tact if we might fall. One must always take the torch and light the path through the tunnel. And one must always follow.
Chase walked over to Jack and Victor, and raised a hand; a flash or blue light erupted from his palm and the sound of lightning echoed throughout the forest. Jack and Victor both staggered upright, there wounds healing even as they got to their feet. “What’s going on Chase? Where’s that guy who attacked us?” Jack looked desperately around, trying to find him. But Chase silently pointed to the disembodied head and the corpse, lying on its chest in the snow. Jack cringed; “You killed him?”
Chase raised a finger to stop his brother; “Not him, what.”
“What?” Jack looked confused.
“Exactly my brother.” Chase spoke calmly, looking down.
Jack huffed and flapped his hand at his brother; “You make no sense you know that Chase?” and he walked over to help his father up.
Chase chuckled softly and looked at Victor; “You took quite an injury there didn’t you?” He asked.
Victor scowled indignantly; “Shut up kid, I’m twice more powerful than you will ever be...”
Chase raised an eye brow; “Oh really now? You think so? Well go look over there and tell me that with a straight face again.”
Victor scowled at Chase once more and hobbled over to the corpse. Victor looked around, searching for the head; his gaze then fell upon the lance. Which was splattered with blood, and at the source of the blood there was a: “Head! You beheaded it, a without even a scratch on your body; but how?” Victor exclaimed with amazement.
Chase threw his head back in mock elegance; “That’s for me to know and for you to find out if you ever face me in battle.” Chase cooed and walked away to join his brother and his father.
”What a strange boy...” muttered Victor, staring at Chase. Victor raised his head to peer over at the sun, but to his amazement, it was no longer in the sky; and it suddenly occurred to him that the sun had been down a while now; probably for and hour. It was slowly turning dark, and the sun was still dipping in the horizon
Chapter four: Radolphous’s Library
It was a quite blustery day, wind striking the large dome shaped fortress, but nothing could penetrate a structure as durable as that. Obsidian was the color of its bricks, from which no wind would breech. A faint glow emanated from its outer layer or bricks, were they obsidian? Or, lord forbid, diamond? However the shape was not a perfect half sphere, for there was an arch which jutted out from one of its parts. And in the arch you ask? Why there was a door, a gargantuan gleaming marble door, from which two large ivory knockers were located on each side.
It might’ve been a solitary structure alone, built in a former bustling city, but now it was in the direct center of the ruins of what was once a great city. So our assumptions were correct, it had been hence forth built in the center of a bustling city.
At a first glance you might presume the dome was deserted, and forgotten, however a dark shape was striding from the mouth of the gate like entryway. Tall, with a long billowing traveling cloak fluttering in the wind in his wake, gleaming silver hair trailed behind him, rippling in the wind, and shining on the fiery orange sand. Despite the great anomalousness of this man striding from out of the midst of a forgotten structure in the middle of a ruined city, there was something very the matter. Aye, but twas this man only a select one of the many lurking in the darkness, watching and waiting to strike. We are speaking, in short, of the numerous sinister eyes peering out from dark corners and crevasses in the ruined sand colored blocks. Incomprehensible whispering was drifting slowly out from the shadows of the area, sounds of plotting wars, death, and utter annihilation of the race we once dubbed humans.
Halting midway in his long stride, the man peaked over his left shoulder; he apparently found nothing the matter, but then he made a double take. A large looming shadow was spreading across the landscape, something that looked like a giant bull, but with longer horns. The man slowly lifted his eyes to gawk at what stood before him, a blessing and a curse, the likes of which he had been searching for, spending countless sleepless nights searching for the beast known as a Taurine, the Latin translation of Bull.
