Black Heart

Chapter One: The Prophet Entails

Disclaimer:

Novel written by Char-Charming
All Caricature and Character situations, confrontations and world plotting of places, are all fiction of my wild imagination.
Please refrain from making the mistake of stating in any way shape, or form that my imagination in these chapters refers to real persons, places or situations!

My warning to all new readers is to first take a look at the synopsis, tags and genre of my novel:
(Black Heart)
Before you read!
This novel covers a lot of disturbing imaginative circumstances and if you are in any way triggered or uncomfortable. Just stop reading!
If you choose to read then that is your responsibility.
On a happier note,
I hope you enjoy this tale.

Happy reading!
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Helios, the undying Sun of Sol, bathes the ancient celestial realm of Acaer in its relentless light, filtering through the sheer crystal dome that veils the sacred land from the vastness of the cosmos. Mavis finds solace amidst a sea of flowers, her gaze lost in the delicate dance of luminescence within the meadow, breathing life into the laughter of children as they dart through the grassy expanses and splatter into the crystal-clear lake nearby.

"Oh, to capture the essence of this serenity forever," she muses, her features softening into a smile as the fresh, aromatic air fills her lungs. Her eyes, drawn to a dark-haired boy hidden under an ancient oak tree —witness to the dawn of eons —find a kindred spirit in his solitude. Amidst the gleeful chaos of celestial youth, he seeks refuge in shadows, enraptured by the colossal guardians that tremble the earth at Acaer's borders.Ludachel was engrossed in sketching the towering Hollows that guarded the border of their realm. Each Hollow, standing twenty metres tall, exuded a wise allure and latent power that captivated the young boy's imagination.

As the boy sketched furiously in his worn notebook, the Hollows seemed to stir, their ethereal essence radiating a sense of guardianship over the sacred land of Acaer. The ground beneath them trembled ever so slightly, a testament to the dormant strength that lay within their formidable frames.

Each Hollow bore intricate patterns etched into its shimmering surface, a labyrinth of symbols and sigils that pulsed with an ancient energy. Faint whispers, like the rustling of leaves in the wind, emerge from their forms, hinting at untold secrets and forgotten prophecies that lay dormant within.

The Hollows stood as silent colossals, their presence a reminder of the delicate balance between creation and destruction, light and shadow. They watched over the borderlands with a vigilance born of aeons, their mysterious gaze piercing through the fabric of reality to the unseen realms beyond.

"My son, finding solace in guardians as if they were the finest troupe of entertainers," she whispers to the wind, a gentle reprimand for the boy who should be immersed in his studies.
The boy's hand, paused mid-sketch, betrays his awareness of her gaze. Turning, his eyes—vast and vibrant as nebulas, unlike the golden sclera of his kin—meet hers, widening in alarm. With his textbooks and scrolls scattered around him in a jumbled mess, noting that his attention was far from his studies and that he had thus been caught red-handed.

Mavis smiles, an unspoken conversation flowing between them as she memorises the contours of his face—a mirror of his father's elegance, softened by youth. Her son, Ludachel, tries to mask his unease with a veneer of indifference but fails with a comical expression of guilt, he scrambles to gather his scattered books, attempting to appear nonchalant in the face of impending reprimand.

Mavis couldn't contain her amusement as she watched her son's antics, the corner of her lips tugging into a sly smile. Ludachel, in a rush of guilty energy, frantically sought to hide the evidence of his distraction, casting furtive glances in her direction.