What now follows is a short story, mind you I am not exactly a writer so constructive criticism is apreciated.
”The Days are longer now, longer than during the colds of winter, longer than during the Evernight all those years ago. A good omen it is not, yet, what the omen means we know not. For many years the days haven’t been this dark. Oh of course that’s not all, the guardsmen of the city have grown grumpy and… old. Like some dark enchantment has fell over them. And there are strange shadows moving around, jumping from shadow to shadow, as if they were beings with a mind of their own. Strange, so strange that our city has fallen into this darkness, so so strange.” – The 23rd of the 13th of the 4359
Quitero looked up, a soft whispering disturbed the peace of this final resting place. It was a sizeable room with two large windows to the south, a big bed, multiple cabinets with books, treasures, maps and other old man stuff. The air was heavy and filled with dust. This place had been deserted for at least half a century. The one who wrote down these words seemed more worried than they seemed scared, he thought. Perhaps something akin to a special trait that the citizens of Taytrenvia bear, a certain belief that everything will be alright in the end, be it by the actions of their rulers or some other power. Something like a great Hero of the ages long past. The whispering continues. It crossed his mind that those Heroes from long ago were always in some way aided in some form or some way by something or someone. Be it an artefact of unimaginable power or a group of mighty people, often kings, queens or powerful magical beings. He even remembered aiding one such Hero by granting him the power of rebirth, the power to be reborn at exactly the same age the bearer had been granted with the power, after being incredibly heroic and almost single handily stopping the Orc invasion of Taytrenvia during The Wars of the Night and Day. This hero ended up being reborn as his 26 year self with all memories of the past cycles intact, learning more and over the years growing more and more powerful. In the end he ended up believing that he, after much travels and lots of different adventures, was not worthy of carrying rebirth with him anymore. He begged and prayed to be lifted of this curse becoming gift, cause he endured many worrying and traumatic happenings, like the Demonic Labyrinth.
His prayers were answered and he was stripped of his powered. After that the Hero of old lived a last and happy life. Getting wed, raising kids and dying amongst the people he loved. Quitero now looked around, the whispers were still in the air, almost getting closer. Closer. Closer and… It stopped. He turned to the windows and saw something in the distance. A fell light, coming towards him. It was Ivermil. Looking as pale as he always does, muted and dark but clean. A strong personality he has, that is for sure. ”And what brings you here? A civil war that is about to happen or perhaps a fight between a neighbor and a cat.” he asked him. ”This looming darkness. This darkness brought me here” he replied ”something is amiss and I have a certain feeling it is ancient” he continued. ”It has the same haunting and evil feeling of that damned Demonic Labyrinth where so many heroes and normal people perished.” ”Should we hint the Queen of this city of the threat?” Quitero asked. ”No, she has sprung into action already. Dispatching knights in search of those who might be the ones to dispel this ever during shadow. She feared what might happen and is now taking action” Ivermil answered. Ivermil summoned a portal. ”Come with me, for we are a part of this, somehow. And we shall, with our kin, guide those that need guidance” They stepped through the portal and disappeared from the endless shadow into the unending day.
It was dark when they appeared in front of her in her living room, as dark as the days always were. Two angelic beings, so it seemed, that had to come to tell her she was important for the returning of the light. They said that she wielded the sacred power of the Andens, a powerful people that were said to have build the first layer of Taytrenvia. They were not so keen however on telling what this power was and could do to scare away the darkness. But they hinted at something, some construction, a Labyrinth of some kind. She was told that they would guide her at the moments of the most dire need but that she had to do the rest herself. It was a strange day, almost a dream. And she fell asleep on the couch dreaming of a labyrinth hidden away in the mountains, guarded by dark shadows and burning red eyes.
So that’s the small story, again I do not write that often so if something sounds strange or looks strange I would love some criticism to improve my writing!
See ya next Sunday for a new short story about The Heartless Labyrinth.