Half Blood

(Prologue)

    Boom!  Crack!  An explosion.  A shower of green sparks, and a fountain of orange flames that licked the thick undergrowth of the forest.  Shrill and desperate cries of birds and animals ring out through the trees as they swarm out of the thicket.  Black clouds cover the sun and fill the land with darkness.  Then suddenly, in the center of the jungle, an orb of blue light appeared, beginning at the size of a small gold piece, growing instantly into an orb that covered a square mile.  A cackle carried loud, maliciously from below.  

     Two men stood beside each other, holding long staffs.  The taller of the two was thin, with short black hair and a small beard brought to a point, held together by a blue head.  On his head, a black cap that seemed to shimmer in the light.  His robes were also black, a dark cord tied around his waist.  There was a small pouch looped through his belt,  held just by his hip. His skin was a rich caramel color, free of any scars, wrinkles, or markings of any kind.  The shorter man was a pale, clean-shaven blond.  He was adorned with yellow robes, and a golden crown.  He was laden with heavy jewels and a matter of fine silk.  His eyes were hard, set coldly on his companion. The light emulated eerily from the clear crystals mounted on their staffs. 

"This is useless, Izon", muttered the tall man, slamming his staff against the ground. A flash of silver lightening skittered across the dirt, protruding from the end of his staff, "why can't we just summon the beasts and get this over with?"

"Hush Oviso", growled Izon, his green eyes flashing dangerously, "as I've told you, he'll come."  

 Sure enough, through the spiraling smoke, and growing flames, a young man walked into the light. His hair was a rusty brown, messy, and pulled back with a small piece of string.  His clothes were muddy and tattered, and the rings beneath his eyes revealed that he'd had many sleepless nights.  Tucked under his arm was a small package wrapped in parchment paper.  Standing only a few feet away from Izon and Oviso, the stranger gently placed the package at their feet and stepped back, trembling.  

"I have given you everything that you asked," he said in a pained voice, "so lift my curse--I beg of you!"  

Izon waved his staff, almost dismissively, and the package floated smoothly into his free hand. The man watched, his mouth falling open. Izon opened the package and inspected the contents Oviso peered over his shoulder and smiled darkly.  

"And you're sure these are real?" Asked Izon.  

"Yes, Master Izon," answered the man. 

"Good..." Izon said softly, "very good."

Oviso took the package from Izon, and tucked it in his robe.  Thunder rumbled loudly overhead.  

"Lift my curse," the man repeated, his voice rising, "you promised me--"

He was cut off by laughter, swiftly followed by the roaring of thunder.  The sky flashed bright with streaks of lightening.  

"Nobody said anything about us lifting your curse, foolish mortal," Oviso replied with a smirk. 

The man dropped to his knees, placed his head into his hands and began to weep, shaking uncontrollably. When he finally peered upwards again, Oviso was twirling a small golden sphere in his hands, the open package sticking out of his robe. 

"Do you even know what this is?" He asked, his eyes glittering. 

The man couldn't take his eyes off of the orb, he almost seemed enchanted by it, "it's a weapon from the ancient world."

"Congratulations, my boy," Izon cheered with intimidating enthusiasm, "but do you know what it does?"  The man slowly rose to his feet and shook his head, his eyes still trained on the orb. 

"As a matter of fact," continued Izon, hinting dangerously, "I doubt you even know who we are."

"You're wizards," the man blurted immediately, then slowly added, "and murderers and thieves."

   The blue light that lit up the trees dimmed and transformed to a deep crimson, giving the two wizards a frightening appearance, violent and evil, their crystals still shining over their staffs.  

"My poor, poor boy," Oviso crooned, "we're not just wizards, murderers and thieves.  We are not of this world."

  At that moment, the man collapsed to the ground, clawing at his throat, screaming words that didn't quite reach the air.  His legs twitched at odd angles, and his back arched.  His eyes were out of focus, his face sweating.  A small gasp escaped his lips.  

Oviso stood at his feet, his staff trained directly at the man, clearly the causing the pain of the man,"summon the beasts," he said in a strained voice.  Both of his hands were now on his staff, his knuckles were white and he was shaking.  Still, he wore a sadistic smile.  Izon smirked and twisted his staff sharply, and slammed it violently against the earth, as lightening struck the tip. A horrible roar sounded in the distance , and a tremor shook the ground.  Footsteps approached rapidly , until a giant black figure erupted from the trees. The beast had the body of a large cat, only much bigger.  Most similarly, it resembled a lion, having a thick mane and enormous paws.   Two long, serrated fangs jutted out past his chin, about a foot long on each side. Its eyes were the worst part: two gaping black holes that stared and stared and stared. The tail was armed with thousands of pointy barbs. It growled ferociously and reared up on its hind legs.  

Oviso, who was sill concentrating on making the man dance inhumanly across the ground, called out to the beast, "feast on this traitor's flesh."

At once, the beast charged the man, gnashing its teeth. Oviso stepped backwards, to watch with interest.  Then, something strange happened.  As abruptly as the beast charged, it veered off, as if it were afraid of touching the lifeless man on the ground.  The two wizards were instantly cautious. They approached slowly, while the beast crashed back into the forest. 

 First, they noticed a beam of green light protruding from his chests cutting right through the mask of their own crimson glow.  As the beam grew, and aura of white light vegans to surround the man's limp body.  

"What's going on?" Izon gasped, awe-stricken and frightened.  

The man's eyes opened, yet only the whites of his eyes were visible. His mouth opened, and when he spoke, he bore a deep raspy voice that wasn't his own: "your fate has been chosen. The prophecy lives on."  Then his eyes shut, and the man was dead.