The Otherworld: War of the Ancients – Prologue

18 mars 2017

            Awakening to the sensation of a sharp stabbing pain in his chest, Faelan released a laboured breath between frost bitten lips. His body had been smothered in a thin layer of frost which only served as a bitter reminder to the pain he endured with every movement. After having struggled for several minutes he finally managed to roll off the stone slab upon which he had been lying. Landing on his hands and knees caused intense pain to shoot through his body, causing him to groan in agony. Once the pain began to subside, Faelan slowly rose to his feet and took a couple of straggering steps forward. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there, but from the stiffness of his limbs and frost that had covered his body he guessed it was a long time. Longer than he had ever intended.
           Glancing around the ruined room he had no idea where he was. Slowly approaching one of the walls he noticed the ancient carvings that covered it. He reached out to trace them, but as soon as his fingers touched the wall his mind was flooded with memories. It was memories of places and people he hadn’t seen for a long time. It was memories of what had brought him here, and it was memories of the person accompanying him.
            Faelan jerked away his hand, as if the wall had burnt him. Turning around he eyed the room once again. Soon he found what he was looking for. Crossing the room he fell to his knees beside a second slab, mumbling something incoherently as he slowly crushed the ice covering the body.
             Before him lay a beautiful woman. Her hair, with the color of newly fallen snow, fell softly around her shoulders. She was dressed in an elaborate white leather armor with silver details, bearing the symbol of the Anfae; the six pointed star. Her beautiful ice blue eyes were closed, and her pale skin was even paler than he remembered. She had been his constant partner; his life-companion. But now, just from looking at her, Faelan knew that she had returned to the stars. Lovingly stroking her hair he quietly mumbled a hymn of passing, vowing that they would one day be together again.
             Straightening he adjusted his similar white armor. Crafted by the finest leatherworkers in Faeum, it bore the High Royal symbol; a six pointed star with crossed spears in the foreground. Slowly approaching the slab he had been laying on, he picked up his sheathed sword and fastened it to his belt. Glancing at the woman one last time he walked out of the room.
             Navigating the ruined hallways allowed his mind to drift. It worried him how tangled his memories were; that he couldn’t really remember where he was. Or how he had gotten there. Almost everything before the Long Sleep was a haze, and even those few clear memories he had made no sense. He hoped arriving to the surface and feel the wind on his face would clear a few things. But the only thing he felt as the cold wind enveloped him was dread. He could feel his people cry out in desperation.
             Faelan knew there was only one thing to do. His last clear memory was Faelivrin demand the portal remain closed, for the sake of the Fae. But it would be for their sake he reopened it.


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