The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

KEEPING COUNT

He was running, the dark forest growing around him, his feet thumping on the ground. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his brows, trailing down his cheeks and mingling with the tears on his face. An owl hooted overhead and his eyes glowed with the distant shimmer. His foot caught on a root and he tripped, falling on his face. The world turned and spun around him becoming a haze of ebony green above him. A cold washed over him and he felt the gooseflesh rise on his arms, his hair standing on end as he heard a horrific scream rend the air.

Twice he tried to get up but pain shot through his ankle. His arms stung where he had scraped them on the rough ground. A whisper came into the air and he felt the ground shake beneath him. The forest came to life around him. The birds suddenly shrieked, the wolves howled. Overhead, a murder of crows rose into the sky, cawing and clucking.

A lone raven, one larger and inkier than one he had ever seen before, flew down towards him, talons outstretched. He saw the unnatural orange in its eyes as it neared. A scream left his mouth, his hand thrown up to shield his face. A blast came and the raven went rolling through the air. It shrieked once. Twice. Then, it turned away from him and flew into the night.

One of them rose high into the air before diving for him. He scrambled back but the bird halted and started circling his head, orange eyes fixed on his face.

And then it spoke. It spoke in a high caw and words tumbled from its mouth in a sinister roll of mirth.

"One for the laughter,

Two for the smile,

Three for the hate,

Four for the smile,

Five for the ever cursed gold."

The bird swooped once, clawing at his hands, before rising and circling his head once again. It continued with an unearthly cackle.

"Six for the brave,

Seven for the poor,

Eight for the life,

Nine for the war,

Ten for the ever-cruel hand."

The crow rose and followed its companions towards the city, wing beats harsh between their caws, till the entire sky was covered in a fluttering sheet of black. More shouts came, before an unearthly shriek filled the air.

Despair.

That was all he felt at that moment. Shadows rose from the earth around him, brushing against him as he sobbed into his knees. Sweat matted his short hair to his head as he rocked back and forth. He felt warm arms wrap around him, but as he looked up, he was alone. He staggered to his feet, and whimpering, started to head towards the one place he knew he would find refuge; his home, in the arms of his mother, the laugh of his father and the snarky remarks of his sister.

Smoke. He smelled it before he saw it, his throat constricting. Brightness was all he saw as he neared his home. A strangled cry left his mouth as he slid down against the trees, his gaze frozen at the fire in front of him. Fire was dangerous. His father warned him not to play with it. His mother would never let him near the hearth when he was wearing his cloak. So, he stayed put, hidden in the shadows of the trees, arms around his knees as he stared at the flames rising higher into the sky. The screams danced around his ears, a chant becoming louder and louder. He looked from the shadows, the destruction of the fire, waiting for his parents to come and take him back home.

His parents would come, he knew, they knew about this hiding spot of his. So he rested his head on the tree bark and waited for the three people who never came.