Fiction

Finale

This is the finale of Lore of Dread. Dread’s epic saga is coming to an end.

The arrow that was fired at Dread slammed into a tree next to him and fell to the cold ground.

Dread turned to the direction the arrow came from, only to find a hooded figure coming at him, metal knife in hand. Dread moved swiftly to the side.

Under his hood Dread could barely make out a scar that stretched across his face. This was Phrix’s signature.

The scar that could only belong to Phrix represented one ominous Hallow who chose to fight back. Phrix fired more arrows into at Dread, but somehow he maintained the ability of dodging them.

That Hallow…was Dread. Many years ago, the two met, and fought, and were equal in strength. The unsettled feud the two had was seemingly everlasting, and evergreen. With no end, no resolution, except one would live to kill, the other would live in fear. That is why Dread could not bear the thought of his two mortal enemies, Erebus and Phrix, working together.

Albeit many years had passed without fighting, Dread could still kill.

He fired a single arrow at Phrix. He collapsed to the ground struggling to stand up and fight back, or so it appeared.

Phrix used his remaining energy to charge himself at Dread. He heard him mutter the words, “You could never escape me. All Hallows fall, in due time.”

But this did not anger Dread, it motivated him. Dread’s growing passion to end his old quarrels and prove himself as a Hallow was released with a single motion of a knife. Dread moved out-of-the-way of Phrix’s knife and thrust the arrow Dread held into Phrix’s chest.

Phrix fell to the ground, struggling to stand up and fight back. Dread ran to Estrid, choosing not to watch Phrix’s inevitable demise.

Though what Dread saw not only shocked him, but left every part of him pulsing with hatred.

She had been hit by Phrix’s arrow. Her side was pierced by the sharp metal spike.

To Dread’s surprise, and dismay, because he cared too much about Estrid staying safe, she stood up.

“Keep running Dread,” she murmured softly. “I can make my way back to the cabin. I will be safe. And I will tell every one of your plight, so your actions tonight are not forgotten, no matter what happens.”

It sounded to Dread like she expected something to go awfully wrong.

“The Spires are at the end of the clearing. Go and stop Erebus.”

Dread was beginning to wish he took Erebus’ admonition against stopping him as Estrid gradually but somehow gracefully made her way back to the cabin, ignoring Phrix’s motionless body. If he did Estrid would be unharmed, he would not be a murderer, his life wouldn’t be in danger

Or would it? Would Estrid still be harmed?

At the end of the forest Dread could see the Spires, and he could make out a figure that appeared to belong to Erebus. He stood next to many large stone pillars. Each of the remarkable pieces of architecture had an assortment of undistinguishable designs carved into them.

The Spires were lined up a strange formation, but appeared to be in the shape of something like a circle, with seemingly unnecessary spires located in seemingly random places. At the centre of the formation was a patch of concrete, cracking and overgrown by vegetation.

Dread launched one of his remaining arrows at Erebus. To Dread’s astonishment he deflected it by the single motion of moving his sword.

The sword of Creed.

Dread attacked Erebus with all his strength in hopes of smiting him with his own bare hands.

Then, through channeling the enigmatic energy he wielded as a Hallow, he struck the sword. Energy radiated from his hand.

But Dread failed to realize what Erebus was doing at that moment. Maybe it was his anger, or maybe he was just unlucky, but Erebus work had already begun.

The shards of the sword flew around him.

A light flashed, blinding Dread’s vision. When Dread opened his eyes again he saw a dull gray mist surround him.

Dread knew what had happened. He just made the mistake that cost him his life.

The sword acted as a gateway between the worlds. When the sword was damaged during the process, they could not travel any further, or back to where they began. It was like getting a broken key lodged in a keyhole. And anything the sword came in contact with was stuck.

The collision of the strength Dread and the word exuded caused a rift in the realms.

Now Dread was stuck between worlds there. Trapped between two worlds.

Dread tried to turn his head but it felt like he was pushing against clay. He saw the shadow of the oak trees in The Forest of Zoticus.

As he turned his head the other way he saw silhouettes of children laughing outside of houses. They were enjoying their Earthly life.

He saw some contorted version of Erebus next to him. Trapped as well.

He heard Estrid’s plea for Dread. She must have returned for him. Or maybe it was a cry so powerful it was audible from her cabin.

He heard her voice echo around him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to find relaxation in the caring voice of his friend.

Dread was confined here. Confined in a place where it felt like all that is dark was concealing him. The horror of this purgatory between worlds overpowered him. He was neither living nor dead. Was he nonexistent?

Well, at least he stopped Erebus. The Hallows were likely extinct now without him. He fulfilled his duty, and saved both worlds…

That was the duty of any Hallow. To protect your land, and the people you love. Dread was now in the ranks of Creed… and the malice of darkness was vanquished.

That is the end of Lore of Dread. Remember to let me know what you thought of the story, and what you would like to see in next. Expect many more stories coming soon.

© D.K. Phoenix and dkphoenix, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to D.K. Phoenix and dkphoenix with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

This is the first part of a fantasy short story I wrote. It is about the plight of one man in particular during the most fateful day of his life. It is rather long so I will post it in several parts.

D. K. Phoenix

Lore of Dread

Lightning cracked in the pitch black sky. The sound of footsteps on a rocky cement path was drowned out by the heavy crash of rainfall. The path appeared as if it was scarcely used, ventured only on by old travelers and nomads.

A cluster of trees bordered either side of this path. The forest looked dull, bleak at first glance, but if one were to view it with a more inquisitive eye, they would see it was shrouded in mystery.

A man ran down the path. He had a gaunt appearance. He was tall and had pale skin. His hair was of a dark tone and it was slicked back. It looked so black it was almost camouflaged by the night, and it would be if it wasn’t for the lightning perpetually brightening up the dimly lit horizon.

The man carried a bow. Carved into the wood of the bow were the words ‘Legacy of Dread…The Hallow’. The bow belonged to the man.

This man was Kyros Dread. Dread was no ordinary man. He struggled to lead a normal life. Some say Dread was deprived, some say he was oppressed. You may say these things were true. But Dread believes he was cursed. Because Dread was a Hallow…

The tip of an arrow was silhouetted against the trunk of an oak. The arrow was tucked into Dread’s quiver. The bow was clenched tightly in his hand. It hit the hem of his black coat as he ran.

He felt a branch scrape against his side. The narrow road came to an end. Dread pushed through a barrier of dead leaves and twigs until he stepped into the woods. He kept running.

A slender figure ran in front of Dread. It was feminine in appearance. Dread knew this woman as the young Estrid Night. He could make out the shimmer of her black hair in the rain through the bracken. She was less recognisable now than ever as the gray jacket she always wore was blended into the surroundings, as if the forest wanted to keep everything inside concealed from the outside world.

Estrid had dark blue eyes that could either provide her caring warmth or her piercing glare. Often both at once.

Most of everything in the forest was long deceased or in hibernation. Winter had struck early in the Realm of Atromitos. There was no weather in Atromitos, except for this night. The sky only appeared in shades of gray during the day, and jet-black at night. Only the plants felt the seasons, dying in the winter, coming to full life in the spring.

But tonight was different. Tonight was The Eve of Reckoning. The night all Atromitans feared.

This was the eve of Dread’s ancestry. You see, the Hallows were the first people to exist in Atromitos. Everyone mortal in Atromitos was gifted with incredible physical strength and intellect. The Hallows had these abilities as well, but they were gifted with even more. They used. They used their esoteric ability to establish The Eve of Reckoning. The night when the realm begins to exude a new energy and the storm of the Hallows would strike without mercy. On this night the Hallow’s arcane powers swelled to an inscrutable strength.

Atromitos had many forest areas, or at least in the Eastern areas. In the West lied a mountainous landscape. But a lot of land was taken up by the cities Atromitan government.

What added to Dread’s already heightened apprehension was the way the moon still shined. It was the way the moonlight casted the shadows of the oak trees onto the forest floor, giving the branches humanlike appearances. Dread’s focus was momentarily diverted by a particular branch, almost briefly mistaking it for a different entity.

He could feel the rain coming down through the branches. He stepped over a fallen tree.

A shout came from Estrid up ahead. “Struck down by the lightning of Creed!” It was typical of her to notice anything related to the Hallow history.

As Dread knew himself, but Estrid constantly reminded him time after time, Creed was one of the original Hallows and was greatly responsible for the creation of The Eve of Reckoning.

Most Hallows lived their life in fear of the unimaginable power they possessed and scarcely had control of. The majority of the Hallows were lived a solitary life because of the way they were oppressed by the government. But the government feared the Hallows. This was long ago though. Now Dread was the only Hallow he knew to remain.

A cabin was hidden in the trees a few metres ahead. Estrid ran to the wooden door, Dread stopping soon behind.

Estrid pulled open the door and jolted inside rushing in Dread along with her, slamming it behind her.

The inside of this shack was most untidy. Large books with odd lettering lined the shelves. Papers were sprawled along the desks.

The cabin appeared run down, with mild rot along the corners.

This was not the first time Dread had been here. The hut belonged to Estrid. They came here often to study Hallow lore.

Estrid conducted her research in Atromitan history, philosophy and folklore here. She was called a fanatic by many, not that many knew her, but she preferred to call herself a historian.

And Dread knew she was the one to help him on his quest. She more about the Hallow Legacy than anyone he knew. Well, other than the Monarch…

What did you think? The next part will be up soon.

~D.K. Phoenix