EMBER

Chapter 1

The World of Darkness

Everyone gathered behind the doorstep of the sobbing dungeon as they made a narrow space for the rustic metal gate to open. Creaking — throbbing — clanging of the human skulls hanging on the gate. They were the skulls of the good fellowmen who volunteered to traverse the inferno, yet forsaken by the gods. They never made it to their destination. Their pitied souls were engulfed by the ravaging flame — burnt then turned to ashes.

As the new brotherhood's promise: to bring back the corpses of whose god's unfavored child for the family to wake, the remains of these good fellowmen now fortified the new foundation of hope that someday the world may thrive again.

Behind the fifteen-feet tall stronghold, the starving settlers patiently waited until the horsemen entered the dungeon and mounted off. With them, a wagon full of crates that everyone had been waiting for the last long month. The crates were filled with limited supplies of food and water from the Great Motherland of Earth. Supplies that may last for the next month of starvation.

Ember was among the raging crowd. He had to break the line for her bedridden mother. It had been a week since they ate a good meal, other than the mushrooms sprouted next to their cold bed, and drank fresh water not dripping from the stalactites on their ceiling.

Thin and starving, Ember was among the dying people living in the dungeon for almost two decades now since the Great Salvation. He would turn eighteen soon, yet never had a chance to celebrate his born day as the gods had forgotten them.

Eighteen years had passed since the darkness uprising. The world was purified with fire and melancholy. The ground above them became an ocean of despair and fatality. No one would survive, other than the faithful fellowmen who had chosen to live beneath. Days, months and years passed. Some did not last to a decade and left the grieving love ones. Others were corrupted of violence to survive, yet remained unsuccessful. Few were left and most of them were dying.

Ember was born few weeks after the spark of the Great Salvation. His first taste of air was the rotten smell of the dungeon with all of the dead bodies of his fellowmen. His first sight was the scorching flame in the darkness. His first and might be the last would be living beneath the ground — snatched of the desired life which people had before the darkness ruled.

Ember shoveled his way to get in front of the line. Everyone saw what he did and started pushing one another causing disorder and rage.

"Get back to your line, boy!" one of the horsemen shouted. His voice was harsh and commanding.

He untangled his whip from his belt. It was long, undesirable and overused. With bloodstains covering the threads, it has been the whip that maintained the balance in the dungeon during such time of chaos.

He had to stop the commotion. He had to swing his whip.

Cracked — two consecutive cracks — Ember kneeled in pain. His body especially his back swollen after the second beating. "Mercy, my lord! My mother is starving. Spare us some food and water," he begged.

Everyone stepped back as they also pled for mercy. It was the teeth of the whip that caused half of the people in the dungeon repented all of their madness. It was feared the most, especially in the age of darkness. But one guy with a dimming torch stood tall. "So as my mother," he contested.

"Easy, both of you! Everyone will get their rations! We just need to keep the line back," reassured the horseman. He was tall, fair and brusque. They called him 'the rider'. He had been traversing for years now, and by gods' mercy, he would always still come back alive.

The new brotherhood would always talk about him, and how they would tag him as the fastest and fearless rider in the dungeon. He was never afraid of the monsters waiting outside of the dungeon to devour him, nor the burning fields along their way. He would just mount his horse and ride for days. Then for the next month, he would come back with a wagon full of supplies for everyone.

"Tell me your name, boy." He rolled his whip and inserted it back in his belt. He walked towards the crates to grab some bundles of vegetables, few pieces of fruits and two pouches of water. The Great Motherland of Earth had never forsaken them. He handed it to Ember. "For you and your mother, boy...The gods bestowed their grace."

Ember saw the kindness in the man's heart even after the beating he received. Perhaps, he was not cruel as what others perceived. "Thank you, my lord." He stood up with ease and caution. "My name is Ember, my lord."

"Ember? Like a spark of fire? That is a beautiful name. Very well thought...and timely, as we are facing the age of darkness, the great age of deliverance."

"Is it, my lord?" Ember followed the horseman as he helped distributing the rations. He could see faces of old men and women, mother and child, hard to scribble, wailing as they reached for food and water.

"Yes, yet I can see your desperation. Thou shall the kindle of hope for everyone, for everyone of us caged in the darkness of this dungeon. As your name suggests, thou shall be the spark of fire, of light in this time of sorrow, but I can attest your fear. Fear is the root of all evil."

"I had to do it once for my mother, my lord. She has been sick and I pity her dying soul. May the gods shower her their grace for her to live more faithful years so I could be with her longer."

"It is not our duty to question the gods' judgment, boy. If it would be her time, let the gods embrace her and show her the right path."

"But I have no one else aside from my mother, my lord. She is the only one and the only family I have left."

"Fear is the desperation in your heart and in your mind. Let go of that fear. Never let fear succumb your whole being, Ember."

"You utter such kind and in-depth words, my lord. You must still be in your mid-thirties yet you are showing a figure of a prophet or a wiseman to me. Though, I have never seen one in my life since I was born and remained in this dungeon, but my mother would always tell me a lot of stories. If you may forgiven me, may I ask who you are?"

"My name is Draij [dra-yidge], once an Apostle of Justice. It is not true that I look younger than of my words that I uttered. I have lived for hundred of years already. I was a servant of the Great Mother Isolde, ruler of the Great Motherland of Space."

"An Apostle of Justice, my lord? I remember that my mother had told me about the apostles of the great seven kingdoms. You have been blessed by the gods' almighty power. But what happened to you, my lord? Why are you caged in the darkness of this dungeon?"

"It is a long story, boy. But during the Great Salvation, in the darkness uprising, all great rulers of the seven motherlands were judged. The Seven Great Mothers failed the judgment trial thus all of their children were sentenced to vanish and the world must be purified of all sins."

"What about us, my lord?"

"Before the Great Mothers vanished, they asked for one condition....to deliver the faithful ones from the salvation and let their faith dictate their deliverance. So the fear in your heart and in your mind will mean you harm, as fear is the root of all evil."

"Lord Draij, if you please, I want to hear more—"

"I still have work to do, boy. Go on and pave your way. Your mother must be waiting for your return. Feed her that rations and send her my blessings. May the gods bless you and your mother."

"But, my lord—"

"No more buts, boy."

"As you wish, my lord."

Ember put the rations he got from the wagon inside a ragged sack, carried it with ease and carefully departed. His face glistened in his way although his back still sore. His mind showed him the images of his mother and the envisioned stories his mother would always tell him. He could not wait to tell his mother that he met an apostle in the midst of an odd instance.

Draij could not keep his eyes away from the boy while he was departing. "May the gods punish me if I am wrong, but there is something about this boy," he told himself.