The Sixth Hero - Prologue [High Fantasy, 1,498 words]

The Sixth Hero is an epic fantasy documenting the journey of Amenset, a thief from Mardiac, as she gets tangled up in the cult-like following of the prophecised Sixth Hero.

After publishing 3 novellas I decided it was time to tackle something big, and this is the story I chose. With this prologue, which takes place some 5-6 years before the events of the book, I'm trying to show the reader what kind of story this will be and what the world will feel like.

I think for completely new readers to the genre, this might be a bit much information, but I'm generally aiming my audience to be experienced fantasy readers. Let me know what you think!

PROLOGUE

A silence reigned over the blackened fields of Darkwater Pass. Soft winds quietly weaved their way between charred ruins and dead trees. It was an unnatural silence, holding the world around it in a firm, mute grasp that permitted no sound to travel.

A city had once stood here. It had been majestic in its day, its walls and towers safeguarding the border between two long-forgotten kingdoms. And much as its purpose, its name was now but a footnote in the history of Tridia.

Only blackened stones and crumbled remnants now stood as evidence of the city’s existence. They were the final witnesses of the heavy fought battle between the Fourth Hero Aeskhos and the darkness. Despite the destruction, Aeskhos had been victorious. But the damage to the land and the city had been done, and the city had fallen never to rise again.

A sudden gust of wind wrought its way through the ruins, and as sound returned, a girl appeared midst it all. She was young, far too young to be all alone in a place as cursed as this, and flesh over bones. Dressed in naught but a ragged, worn-down blanket, and with skin covered in dirt, dried blood and bruises, she blended in well with her surroundings. Her raven black hair hung unkempt to her shoulders, hiding her hollowed face partially. The faded markings of a slave tattoo adorned her left wrist.

She looked around the ruins of the forgotten city, frightened eyes weary for any indication of danger. A small cry escaped her dried and blistered lips as a lonely bird’s call pierced the air. She quickly reprimanded herself. Making sure she was alone, the girl knelt down in the dirt and opened her hand. For days on days, she had held on to the small, green gem now laid visible in her palm. With a slight tremble, she turned her hand and let the gem fall into the dirt. For a heartbeat, the sunlight found its way through the clouds and reflected through the falling gem. A green flash blinded the girl for a moment before the clouds once again concealed the sun. Remembering her instructions, she placed a finger from each hand on the gem and closed her eyes.

Then she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And as she waited for something she knew nothing about, the fatigue began to settle in.

Days of walking barefoot across the ruined landscape of Tridia. Days without a morsel of food and only a few drops of water to sooth her cramping stomach. Yet she stayed awake, her only remnant of hope pressed firmly into the dirt beneath her fingers. If the Ancient Gods had seen the girl at that moment, they would have praised her tenacity and strength the way they had once praised the First Hero.

But even the strongest need sleep and rest. As the sun set hidden behind the clouds and the skies darkened over Tridia, the girl fumbled forward into a world of dreamless sleep.

“Open your eyes.”

The girl shot up from her sleep. She had overslept. She was supposed to be awake hours ago. Her master didn’t like it when she was late, she would have to…

She looked up the open sky above her. The clouds had parted during the night, a vast array of stars the likes she had never seen before now shone above her. She remembered where she was, why she was here.

“You have summoned me. Speak your purpose.”

The deep, rumbling voice sent a shiver through the girl’s spine. Slowly, she turned around towards it source. The girl had seen her fair share of blood and violence throughout her years as a slave, but what she saw before her now shook her to her very core.

A man stood there, his stature vaguely visible in the little moonlight that shone that night. He adorned robes and armour that hadn’t been worn in over five centuries. Tall he stood, taller than any human the girl had ever seen, and a sword larger than even her hung at his side. A skull sat where his face was supposed to be. A skull that spoke to her.

“You have summoned me,” the skull rumbled again. “Now state your purpose.”

“Forgive me for disturbing you,” the girl began, trembling. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“You have summoned me,” he repeated. His words seemed to float in the air for a moment before dissipating, almost as if they belonged to the ruins around them. “It matters not who you are. State your purpose.”

The girl swallowed her anxiety. “I heard of you in stories,” she said. “I heard you will fulfil the wish of any one who summons you, no matter their stature. I heard you never turn down a wish and ask for little payment.”

The man snickered. A strange noise. “Payment is not always what it seems. What is your wish?”

“The darkness has returned,” the girl said. “Everyone I ever knew has perished and I am without master. Can you help me?”

“That is no wish.” The man laughed, which, the girl considered, was in stark contrast with the way he looked. “But do not think I can fight off the darkness. That was my purpose once, but it is no longer. If the darkness truly has returned, than we will soon witness the arrival of the Sixth.”

“I don’t understand,” the girl whimpered. “Will you not help me?”

The man gave another hearty laugh, the moonlight reflecting on his skull. “For that, you will need to make a wish first.”

Strangely, the girl felt more at ease the more the man spoke. Sure, he looked intimidating, but she felt he wasn’t a bad person. Not like the master had been, at least. She thought about her words for a moment. Can you help me? It wasn’t exactly a wish, she now realized.

“I…,” she began. “I wish for…” She hesitated. The stories she heard told of people wishing for and being granted enormous wealth or power. Was that what she needed? What she wanted? She thought back to her days as a slave. That had been only a few weeks ago, yet a lifetime had passed since then. She could still hear the screams. Screams of agony, betrayal and desperation. Why had this happened?

“I wish to become someone who can help fight the darkness.” The words came out before she could contemplate any further. Had she made the right decision? Too late now, she knew.

The man looked down at her. The confines of the skull remained motionless, yet she knew he was judging her. She scurried back as he unsheathed the enormous sword hanging at his hip. The girl gasped as she laid eyes on the most beautiful weapon she had ever seen. Hundreds of small, green gems swirled and twirled around the blade’s contours, never keeping to one shape. He placed it point first in the dirt before him, its reflection sending out ever-moving waves of soft, greenish light onto the dirt around it.

The gem she had pressed into the ground earlier freed itself and shot up towards the sword. There, it joined the other gems and nestled itself into the pattern. A shimmer ran through the sword, and the man seemed content.

“Your wish will be granted,” the man said. “But the darkness is not my fight any more. It will be yours and others.” His gaze wondered off towards the south and seemed to forget the girl was even there. “Jewel’s Edge has once again awakened. The last of the Sacratys has made its choice. Soon, the Sixth Hero will arrive. Perhaps I will finally find peace.”

“Who are you?” the girl asked. “The stories say you are evil. You don’t seem evil to me.”

The man picked up his sword and sheathed it. Once again surrounded by the dark of night, the man knelt next to the girl. Her eyes met where once his had been. She saw no evil in those dark, empty sockets. There was a sadness to them. A loneliness she had seen before in the eyes of those who were ready to give up.

“I have done evil things, little girl,” he said softly, the rumbling of his voice carrying over ever so slightly. “And not enough good. This is my penance, and I will carry it to the end. It is the will of the War Cleric Fryan.”

“The War Cleric?”

“Worry not about these things,” he answered. “Come, I will grant you your wish. You must be ready for the coming of the Sixth. It will be the end of all ends.”

A silence returned to Darkwater Pass. A girl had walked among these ruins. A girl that, unbeknownst to herself, had begun to walk a path that not even the bravest of warriors would have dared follow.

A path towards darkness and the end of all things.