The Spirits of the Sun

Prologue

Calm.

That's all that was on his mind, as he sat in his sofa chair, facing the sun.

He sat there silently, listening to the sounds of birdsong and the breeze, savouring the environment around him. 

Then he opened his eyes. His golden eyes glinted in the bright sunlight but he didn't even wince as he stared full on at the Sun in the face. A thin smile spread across his face as he walked forwards towards the glaring shine of the Sun and suddenly his surroundings blurred and he disappeared, as he jumped halfway around the world to a bustling city square in the centre of Paris. No one noticed him appear out of thin air and it was as though there was a sphere of air rolling around him because the passerbys continued walking but in a wide arc to avoid him. 

His golden eyes scanned the square around him, noticing every detail around him. But he ignored it and searched for one particular person. His eyes flashed once and he turned towards a small man sitting at a nearby café who was slowly stirring a cup of coffee, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. the golden-eyed man walked slowly up to the man and started to place his hand on his shoulder.

When the other man stopped his hand a hand's breadth away from it. 

"Ah so it's you they've sent... what do they want this time? I've told them countless times that they will not receive our help regardless of what they say."

"They're done with waiting and sick of your evasions. They've ordered me to eliminate you."

"Sad thing that they seem to have sent the wrong man to get me," the small man said thinly. And with a twist of his wrist, he promptly snapped the other man's wrist. His cry of pain was cut short as the small man, in a graceful motion stood up and swept his feet from beneath him. 

The breath was forced from his lungs as he hit the floor hard, and the next moment, the small man's face appeared above him. 

"I'm sorry my friend, but they seemed to have sent the wrong person. An assassin like you is not even a challenge." The smallish man stomped on his fingers, and the golden-eyed man knew by the pain that the bones were broken. A well-placed kick numbed his knee and he smarted in pain. With his one good hand, he fumbled for his pockets and struggled to grasp the trinket placed within.

"Sorry to disappoint," he gasped, "but i don't need skill to finish you off."

"Why's that?" the small man asked quietly, with a smile over his face.

"They've decided that you're worth it," said the gold eyed man, licking his lips. "A man of your authority deserves to be killed by in the best way possible. Your death will be painless and let that be a blessing for you." As he lifted up a small sand-timer encrusted with jewels and turned it upside down. 

The small man took in a gasp of breath, as he lost the ability to move. He fell to his knees. It felt like his body was dying, one part at a time. "Impossible..." he gasped as his body failed him and he toppled forwards, "that shouldn't be in your hands... you'll never get away with this... the council... they'll find you and make your life a living hell..." 

He gasped a final breath and lay on the street unmoving. The passerbys kept moving, laughing and enjoying themselves, oblivious to the fact that a murder had happened beneath their very noses. The golden-eyed man stood up painfully, and cradled his injured hand carefully in his other. He turned to leave but at the last moment, he stopped, and turned back to look at the body one last time. The body had started disintegrating now, and soon they would be nothing left but a bit of ash and sand to ever prove that the dead man had ever existed. "Yora, havt vale..." he whispered under his breath and he limped forward, stepping onto a beam of light coming from the setting sun of Paris and promptly disappeared.