Cries of a Wounded Soul

Chapter 1

[Aria]

[Twenty-two years ago]

The battle was nearly lost, and with it, the hopes of humanity.

The bodies of men and demon Chort alike littered the rocky valley floor, my king among them. Blood drenched the sandy soil and stained the wandering stream crimson. Hot smoky winds tossed dark hair across my face, while stinging my eyes. The king chose poorly the arena of battle. With so much dry grass and brush around, all it took were a few carefully placed fires to force us together into a densely packed killing zone.

So much death. I choked back the bile that rose in my throat.

Now only a handful of weary soldiers remained, wearing bright blue tunics blemished with battle and holding chipped swords that wavered in fatigued hands. They surrounded Father and me, the last of the king's mages, in a ragged half-circle, a red-rock wall to our backs. A young soldier, hardly older than me, turned back to us, expressionless, gazing into my eyes and searching for a shred of hope. I had little to offer.

In contrast, there seemed to be an endless supply of the demon Chort, the mindless killers of the Darkness. Snarling, they nonetheless held back, waiting for orders to finish the slaughter. Bloodied battle axes and maces swayed impatiently in stout, hairy fists. Standing a head taller than men with twisted features and red eyes blazing with bloodlust, their appearance matched their demeanor. It was as if equal amounts of man, gargoyle, and boar were blended and allowed to fester into an abominable mass.

Naamah, the incarnation of the Darkness, stood triumphantly atop a nearby knoll, savoring her upcoming victory as if sipping a fine wine. She took on a human female form but composed of tightly bound swirling blackness. Red eyes, like those of her Chort, pierced my soul with a malicious glare, and I shuddered.

"Mage Aria," she called out with many voices. "Do you not yet see the inevitability?"

I fingered the red gem pendant that hung from my neck, a Blood Crystal. With it, an Oracle may look into a soul, and if that soul was Blood Born, activate the latent Magic within. Thus, giving rise to a Mage. Only an Oracle may wield the crystal, and such I was, but also a Mage, a very rare and powerful combination. No wonder the Chort restrained themselves from attacking me. Naamah wanted my soul.

"Come to me," she called out again, opening her arms wide.

I turned to my father, a powerful Mage in his own right and the man who took me in as a young orphan, raising me in love. Forever grateful I would be to him. "I have no other choice."

Father opened his mouth, a protest on his tongue, but no words emerged. He, like me, knew the truth of my decision. We had discussed this path, but I think he never believed it would come to be. Rushing in, I embraced him, and the tears flowed like rain.

"I am so sorry, Aria, my precious willow song," he whispered in my ear in a voice trembling with sadness. "Be strong. Someday, I promise, I will come back for you. I shall love you always."

Parting, I wiped the tears from my face and turned toward a dark destiny. Sorrow blackened my heart. My father, my friends, my comrades, everyone I loved; I would not see them again.

The Chort parted, allowing me passage. Foul breath billowed around me, and dozens of hell-red eyes traced my movement, but I hardly noticed.

Naamah floated down from the rocky knoll, trailing black threads, and stood before me. "It is for the best, Aria. Together, we shall create a world of perfect order."

I knew what this 'perfect order' meant. To be sure, it would end the wickedness of mankind; the false pride and selfish ambition; the petty greed; and the destructive wrath. We all have a dark side. But it would come at far too high a price, that which makes us human: joy, wonder, love, and even our free will, all traded for blind obedience to the Darkness.

"Together, we shall be," I replied in an even voice. "Always."

The Blood Crystal at my chest glowed, shining ever brighter. I lifted my hands, allowing blue tendrils of magic to shoot out like millions of tiny glowing threads. With a twirl of hands, I directed the swirling mass to encase first me, then also my adversary, in a network of strands.

"What are you doing?" Naamah narrowed her red eyes. "You cannot hope to defeat me."

I shook my head, then locked eyes with her. "True, I cannot."

With a grimace, I thrust my hands up. The ground shook as massive spires of granite shot up from the ground, reaching skyward like monuments and enclosing us within a circle. The Chort around us swayed and toppled into the rising dust from the violent quake. More rock lifted while jagged blue bolts of magic welded them together into an impenetrable shield. Once complete, no tool of man or magic of Mage could break it.

Only then did Naamah understand my intent. In desperation, she fired balls of flaming red magic from her hands. Those against me, I deflected. Those against the shield glanced off harmlessly. "You fool!" she spat. "You would doom us both."

"Yes," I simply replied. "A sacrifice." For a second, I felt sorry for her, because she would never understand the selfless love behind it.

As fate sealed around us, a final mournful sob escaped my lips. I caught my father's moist eyes through a narrowing crack of our tomb and mouthed the words, 'I love you'.