Nightfall: A Dystopian Adventure Novel

Chapter 1

Tell me a story grandfather!" said the young boy. Weathered lips formed a smile at the request.

"Alright lad. You're about the right age. It's time I told you the story of our people. How we came to be on this planet. A story of our origins." said the old warrior.

The young boy was tickled with the idea. He almost giggled at the thought of such an adventure. Grabbing the child's arm with wrinkled hands, the old warrior pulled him in close, as if to tell a secret. Old fingers poked at the boy's bare chest. Tattooed upon the child's body was an ancient symbol.

"Do you know why you bear this mark?" whispered the old warrior. Shaking in fear at his grandfather's sudden intensity, the boy shook his head. Water began to well up near the edges of his eyes, such a deep blue. Looking down at the child, the old warrior saw a constellation of knowledge stored within those irises, unbeknownst to the child.

"It's a remnant of the old times, a constant reminder for those who would fancy themselves a god. A symbol to remind us that anyone can be killed." said the old warrior. Looking down at the ink that stained his pale skin, the child wondered.

"What does the mark of the Yotanborn have to do with gods grandpa?" asked the boy.

"Everything. Sit down, boy. This tale is long and my breath is short." He cleared his throat, then began in his baritone voice. "Long ago, men were born of metal. Not like you, born of flesh. These men were true Ironborn, spawned from the depths of a steely womb and belched into a world of darkness and agony." said the old warrior. Listening with great interest, the child turned his head, curiosity growing.

"It may be hard to imagine, but I was one of those men." said the old warrior. Astonished, the child bombarded his grandfather with questions.

"But-but grandfather, you can't be. Mother says the men of metal were evil!" cried the boy. Holding up his weathered hand, the old man silenced the child.

"Your mother forgets the price we paid to stop those men. Now listen. We begin with some history. As with many things, little can be understood without history." said the old warrior, relaxing back into his old wooden chair, it creaked in protest.

"Upon the fiery wings of ancient vessels, humanity fled across the great void. Our planet was dead. The price we paid to destroy our greatest enemy. During the voyage our kind suffered the highest treachery at the hands of our most trusted leaders." said the old warrior, his hands held aloft to convey a dramatic tone.

"That is where everything began, but I won't ruin it for you boy. I will start with the call of our hero.

Chapter 1: Awakening

I never thought much about death until the dreams came. People die down here every day, but they never dream. I asked someone what they saw when they closed their eyes. They said: only blackness, an absence of thought. I saw something much more.

Jericho

Dark figures swirled in the recesses of Jericho's mind. He was alone this time, on a foreign path. All was blackness but for a small portion in front of him. A light came from above, white and milky. There were large stalks all around him, brown poles with gnarled skin that stretched to the heavens.

This was Ulfbane forest.

Of course, he only knew that because he was in a dream, he was connected to his unconscious, the collective unconscious. Jericho had never been inside these dangerous woods, yet here he walked, in the depths of his mind, like a shadow of a forsaken thought. He recognized this as a dream destination, somewhere his subconscious had brought him many times before. Walking softly upon the black dirt of the forest path, he looked into the depths of the trees. He wasn't scared this time, this appeared to be an unmolested dream. White rabbits stared at him from behind the roots of the trees. Moving towards them, they scampered away, their tails disappearing into their deep burrows. Their eyes were of human origin.