Book 1: Awakening (The VIth Element Series)

Prologue

Vladimir Alcaeus was, for the first time in his extraordinarily long life, tired. As he walked along the ancient, candle-lit hallways, he sighed, overcome with a sudden weariness. He just wasn't as young as he once was and now, much to his frustration, he was finding each and every day exhausting, despite his remarkable talents and incredible mind.

Stopping temporarily outside the ornate wooden doors before him, to catch his breath, he tightened his flowing cloak more closely around his body. It had gradually been getting colder by the second, as if all the warmth was being sucked out of the atmosphere. It also seemed that the dark, once his comforting friend, was now steadily becoming threatening, filled with shadows half glimpsed and that lurked just out of sight. This could only mean one thing...

Mortimer had re-awoken.

Vladimir Alcaeus shivered even more at the thought of such a foe and clung to the cold doors for support. He had once stopped Mortimer many, many moons ago in an almighty battle – a battle that had changed the course of history forever. That memory haunted him the most.

Vladimir lost himself in a flashback.

*

Mortimer towered over Vladimir, his mouth pulled back in a delighted snarl of victory. His eyes were deadly and dazzling and his ebony hair, normally smooth, was now untameable.

As Vladimir lay there, amongst the dirt and debris, he realised that his nemesis was surrounded by both the living and the dead. They stood there, awaiting their master's call. They stood there, awaiting their master's signal. They were his loyal soldiers...ever patient...ever faithful.

Suddenly, he felt something gloopy trickle down the side of his face. One of the dead had spat on him, marking him...mocking him. Vladimir felt rage well up within his chest. And yet, he was too weak to respond. It was pitiful, really. His robes were torn and bloody and he had shrivelled within himself, almost like a snail reseeding into its home. He felt weak. He felt feeble.

He felt crushed.

"You can't win now." Mortimer laughed coldly, his eyes flashing with numerous emotions. "I've got you just where I want you and finally," he paused dramatically. "I shall have my revenge and you shall get what you deserve!"

It was then that Mortimer lashed out, kicking him repeatedly until he was almost unrecognisable. Vladimir shuddered with every blow. His head hurt. His feet hurt. His chest hurt. All in all, he was exhausted. Something stroked his face and his eyes lulled. Was that death touching him? Was that death calling him...calling him into an eternal slumber?

"No." Vladimir shocked himself with how fierce his response had been. He spat out blood through gritted teeth, defying both death and Mortimer. One of his eyes was practically swollen shut. "No. You're wrong."

Wincing, slowly, ever so slowly, he found the ability to stand.

It was a miracle.

"I'm sorry you feel the way you do," he added, hoping that the sincerity was there in his gaze. His heart thudded like nothing on Earth. "And I'm sorry for what I've d –"

"SORRY WON'T SAVE YOU NOW!" Mortimer's voice resonated around the battlefield, magnified a million times. "SORRY WILL NEVER SAVE YOU...NOT AFTER WHAT YOU'VE COST ME."

As he stood there, Vladimir could have sworn that he saw the tiniest of drops appear within Mortimer's eyes. However, they were gone almost as quickly as they had appeared. The blow, both physical and emotional, hit him like a bullet to the chest.