wouldn’t want my soul to be trapped in a stone.
“The stone is indestructible. There is no way to break them that we know of,” my mother said.
I was confused. I had always thought that The Dark were vampires, but this sounded like something else. “They use magic?” I had never heard of anyone using magic before; it only existed in stories.
Jarvan nodded. “The Dark practice black magic. You have heard the tale of the battle of the Dark Ages?” I nodded. “The vampires who turned against Nyx and their own kind grew ravenous for the taste of blood and power. Even though they had been defeated, it has always been suspected and feared that some fled. I, for one, knew that they would always come back.”
My father groaned at that, clearly at odds. It seemed to me like Jarvan was a very suspicious character. He looked battle worn. He had seen the Dark Ages first hand and it very clearly still affected him. I guess an experience like that could never be erased from your mind and would haunt you forever.
“No one could ever find them, Jarvan. Guards scoured the land looking for the deserters, but none were ever found. Why should we live our lives, fearful of their return, when we could not even prove there were any left? If we had done so, it would have given them a victory in some small way. No, we had to rebuild and bring our people confidence and security,” my father said. There was a hint of irritation in his voice, like he had had this conversation many times. His brow creased and he went back to rubbing his temples.
“Why can’t we use magic to destroy it then?” It didn’t seem like a crazy question when I thought it, but by the reactions of everyone in the room I was sorely mistaken.
“No, child,” My mother grabbed my face, her expression growing stern. “You mustn’t practice magic. To do so is to travel a dark path, away from the Goddess. To do it, you must expel the humanity left within you.” She placed her hand on my chest. “Do you understand? You will lose who you are.”
“Members of The Dark follow another God. One who gets his power from the souls of the living. Magic isn’t the appropriate word for it. More like the energy of the person’s life force,” Jarvan explained.
He always seemed such a bitter, angry man, but now he just looked sad. Something registered when I looked into his old, sad eyes. Was the soul of someone Jarvan had loved, killed and trapped in a stone?
How could anyone survive such pain? I thought of those I loved and what I would do if it happened to them. The despair was almost unimaginable. Knowing their soul would never rest and the pain of their deaths would play out endlessly like a broken record player. My body shivered in fear at the thought.
So, doing magic ourselves wasn’t an option. I certainly wasn’t going to take someone’s soul so I could have power. What else was there? “What do we do now? Just leave the stone in the box?”
“The box contains the power of the stone. It must remain inside. The effects will wear off soon,” said my mother, holding me close.
At the end of the room, their faces stricken with emotion, my father and Jarvan spoke in whispers. Everyone here was like Robin, wearing their feelings openly, no hiding how they felt. I loved that about Naos, but right now I wanted more. I wished I could tap into my father’s thoughts and know what he was thinking.
The sight of the captain of the guard marching into the room answered my question. I had seen him before, talking with my father about their plans. Obviously, plans were about to change.
“Your majesty,” Renek bowed deeply. His armor gleamed from under his crimson cape. For an older man he was incredibly handsome. A strong jawline carried the shadow of a growing beard and a scar ran down his face from brow to cheek. On anyone else the scar would cause heads to turn away - but on Renek it fit him. Like it was a badge of honor.
“Assemble the guard,” my father
“The stone is indestructible. There is no way to break them that we know of,” my mother said.
I was confused. I had always thought that The Dark were vampires, but this sounded like something else. “They use magic?” I had never heard of anyone using magic before; it only existed in stories.
Jarvan nodded. “The Dark practice black magic. You have heard the tale of the battle of the Dark Ages?” I nodded. “The vampires who turned against Nyx and their own kind grew ravenous for the taste of blood and power. Even though they had been defeated, it has always been suspected and feared that some fled. I, for one, knew that they would always come back.”
My father groaned at that, clearly at odds. It seemed to me like Jarvan was a very suspicious character. He looked battle worn. He had seen the Dark Ages first hand and it very clearly still affected him. I guess an experience like that could never be erased from your mind and would haunt you forever.
“No one could ever find them, Jarvan. Guards scoured the land looking for the deserters, but none were ever found. Why should we live our lives, fearful of their return, when we could not even prove there were any left? If we had done so, it would have given them a victory in some small way. No, we had to rebuild and bring our people confidence and security,” my father said. There was a hint of irritation in his voice, like he had had this conversation many times. His brow creased and he went back to rubbing his temples.
“Why can’t we use magic to destroy it then?” It didn’t seem like a crazy question when I thought it, but by the reactions of everyone in the room I was sorely mistaken.
“No, child,” My mother grabbed my face, her expression growing stern. “You mustn’t practice magic. To do so is to travel a dark path, away from the Goddess. To do it, you must expel the humanity left within you.” She placed her hand on my chest. “Do you understand? You will lose who you are.”
“Members of The Dark follow another God. One who gets his power from the souls of the living. Magic isn’t the appropriate word for it. More like the energy of the person’s life force,” Jarvan explained.
He always seemed such a bitter, angry man, but now he just looked sad. Something registered when I looked into his old, sad eyes. Was the soul of someone Jarvan had loved, killed and trapped in a stone?
How could anyone survive such pain? I thought of those I loved and what I would do if it happened to them. The despair was almost unimaginable. Knowing their soul would never rest and the pain of their deaths would play out endlessly like a broken record player. My body shivered in fear at the thought.
So, doing magic ourselves wasn’t an option. I certainly wasn’t going to take someone’s soul so I could have power. What else was there? “What do we do now? Just leave the stone in the box?”
“The box contains the power of the stone. It must remain inside. The effects will wear off soon,” said my mother, holding me close.
At the end of the room, their faces stricken with emotion, my father and Jarvan spoke in whispers. Everyone here was like Robin, wearing their feelings openly, no hiding how they felt. I loved that about Naos, but right now I wanted more. I wished I could tap into my father’s thoughts and know what he was thinking.
The sight of the captain of the guard marching into the room answered my question. I had seen him before, talking with my father about their plans. Obviously, plans were about to change.
“Your majesty,” Renek bowed deeply. His armor gleamed from under his crimson cape. For an older man he was incredibly handsome. A strong jawline carried the shadow of a growing beard and a scar ran down his face from brow to cheek. On anyone else the scar would cause heads to turn away - but on Renek it fit him. Like it was a badge of honor.
“Assemble the guard,” my father
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