Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Prologue

It has been a long time since he has seen the light now.

He spent so much time within the earth, trapped in his own prison, of his own making and design. Tunnels and twisting corridors that snaked and melded together. Within lied thousands of chambers for various persons, he somehow found the use of each. Even those with little will carried out his piece of the puzzle. Till he figured that the puzzle could not be any more perfect. He even designed this throne room. A dark hollow chamber, large columns lining its sides, draperies of red and black, and the blazing insignia of Talin that decorated each one. The main floor empty, enough to fit a thousand people abreast, laid bare with only a few servants walking aimlessly around, their hands seemingly uncomfortable without holding or fixing anything. Their white, almost mist-like dress making them appear as ghosts, a partial truth in honesty. They were indeed far from human.

His dark eyes drifted to the door, large iron sets that would take a few bulls to open them. They were seldom meant to open, and he has not seen the sun in years it seemed. Not since that dreaded war. Where he was injured in his attempts, forced to dwell in the dark as the foul creature that he was. But why was he staring? He felt the need to wait for something, to expect the arrival of some sort. A face beyond the fanged, hollow stares of the servants, their flaming red hair glossing past his dark sullen eyes. Someone was coming, he knew it. He didn't know why this either, but he knew something bad was going to happen. He took a long, wheezing sigh, his entire chest flaming from the effort as if they had not been worked in a decade. Almost immediately, the servants jerked their stares towards him, staring blankly as if he suddenly appeared within their understanding. He's a slumped, red robes figure leaning forward slightly in the iron throne. His arms, which were rested on the throne, tensed against the arms of the chair in anticipation. While there was no moisture in his mouth, he licked his gnarled teeth. His hawkish nose crinkled as senses began to flood in once more by will alone. He wanted to smell, see, and hear. He looked to his left, where an ivory staff, carved in the form of several snakes twisting around a pole, and all resting their heads upon a white crystal carved as a flower. Faint memories arose, but mere images. fighting, death. A cacophony of rampage and pain, that flowed into his insanity with a wonderful ballot, that brought a sneering smile to his pale lips.

Suddenly, the iron doors were thrust open with tremendous force. The ghostly images of servants turned their attention there, their faces showing emotion for the first time, as he remembers. They seem to tremble, a terrible monster before them. Simultaneously, they all bowed, their faces nearly to the ground with their hands outstretched before them. The sudden burst of fresh, unsealed air washed over his bald head, and he nearly smiled from the experience. There stood in the entrance was a woman, her arm still outstretched from whatever motion she had just done. The other was tucked behind her straightened back, as she locked eyes with the man.

Whatever attribute he possessed, she contrasted easily. Her youthful figure was hidden by layers of robes and dresses that fell to her feet. Swaying black and golden fabrics finer than any merchant could sell comfortably. Her posture was proud and seemed to impose dominance over every other being in her vicinity. She too carried a staff, wrought iron fashioned into gnarled branches that stood as tall as she. He saw four gems embedded in them and had the sudden feeling of wariness as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. She looked upon him, not from respect but a challenge, a challenge he has known in the past. Her black eyes seemed to glow a fierce white as the flames flickered from their candles, though he couldn't tell if it was a trick of the light.

"It has been far too long Prime Noctum Umerius," she bowed as she delivered him his title, although it was stiff and nowhere as low as the servants delivered for her. "Your healings took quite some time. Those of Theurgy left you in quite a dangerous state nearly a decade ago. We were forced to retreat to the catacombs of Nekona. We of Talin have been waiting my lord."