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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

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