Soul of Darkness Chapter 1

Mark of Destiny

The city bells pierced the silence of the night. Townsfolk rose from their beds and moved for the cathedral in the center of the city. The grand city of Havalon was at most times a very bright, calm, and spacious city. The city's border sat at the edge of the Elven Realm and the frontier where major conflicts had not been heard of for years.  Its nature was usually that of peace and tranquility yet now was struck with fear and darkness.

                Moving slowly and with caution the towns folk listened intently to the bells as they rang. Terror infested their thoughts and spirits as each bell echoed louder than the last. These particular bells were not the sort to warn of emergency or panic of invasion; although to some those options would have been better. These bells were placed in the cathedral towers long ago when times of darkness were at hand, and when they were sounded it meant something evil was happening within the city walls.

The Elves were a race of great knowledge, but were well known for their mysteries and superstitions. The Cathedral was built when the city was established many centuries before. Four towers looked over the city where the people below viewed the historical building as a place of spiritual protection though some viewed it as an overshadowing symbol of power over their lives. The building was almost never locked down; it was always open for people to enter in. This night however was different then most nights. The doors were locked and guarded strongly by Elven knights, standing at full attention armed and ready to fight. Their Silver armor shined in the moonlight and their green capes blew softly in the wind.  Their helmets were of ancient design, showing more than just authority, but also contained a strong glimpse into their culture and history. They stood with great prestige and bravery in their eyes, yet secretly they too felt fear building up from within their hearts.

                No one outside the cathedral heard the conversations that were being held that very moment. No one heard the chants of the priests within the chapel, and no one heard the cry of a new born infant within the dark passageways.

                Deep within the corridors of the cathedral, an Elf made his way down the dark halls until he reached a small room which was also guarded by knights of the city army. He stopped at the door to fixed his vest and cloak; being well dressed in black attire with a white shirt and a green vest with intricate gold buttons. His hair was long and dark, and his face was cleanly shaven.  He was middle aged, though 200 years old he appeared equivalent to a man of 30.

       Fixing his collar and standing up straight, he moved forward, attempting to hide the fact that he had been over-stressed for the situation. Entering the room swiftly but with elegance the Elf examined his surroundings. The room was dark with only the dim light of the torches. Having no windows, the small space was filled a stale scent. A crackled voice broke the silence.

                “The night is at hand my Lord Devin,” another Elf appeared from the shadows wearing dark robes of black and violet, “Our greatest fear has come.”

                The Elf who had just entered turned toward the dark figure in the shadows, “Sethal you snake, how long must you continue to frighten this people with your superstitions and beliefs?”

                “My lord Devin, as Lord of Havalon you have the responsibility to protect this people from whatever tries to get in as well as what tries to destroy it from within,” Sethal said slowly as he walked toward a small table on the edge of the room.
                  Lying quietly was a new born infant. Turning it over to its side, Sethal pulled the arm of the child into view. Curiously Devin approached the table and peered over the shoulder of the priest.

                Upon the right wrist of the infant was a strange mark of three circles side by side with two lines going through them, and two consecutive small lines on each side. It wasn’t a birthmark nor was it anything that could have been natural. It wasn’t like any other mark Devin had seen before; it glowed an eerie light blue.

                Fear began to creep into Devin's mind as he carefully and more closely studied the mark. “What does it mean, Sethal?” He asked as his curiosity turned to terror.

    Not breaking his gaze upon the small creature in front of him Sethal pondered deeply on what was before him. He too was afraid. Afraid that this mark of destiny could be the fate of them all.

                “The mark is a mark of evil, those who posses it will only find chaos. Chaos will only lead to sadness, and sadness leads to destruction. It is a child of death, a soul of darkness,” Sethal said quietly, still maintaining his gaze on the mark. “Only death will come upon us if he lives.”

                How could this be? Devin began to wonder. He didn’t believe in these sort of superstitious nonsense nor did he trust Sethal, yet there was still room for doubt and fear. Could what Sethal say be true? Could this helpless child be his death? The very thought made him quiver.

                “What of the mother?” He asked, worried of what he would hear.

                “Dead. There were complications in the birth,” Sethal replied, finally looking away from the mark and moving toward the other side of the room with no interest in Devin's question.

                A shiver ran down Devin’s spine as he turned to look where the mother had been delivering. There in the corner, lay the lifeless body of once a beautiful maiden of fair blonde hair, now ragged and messed from the stress. Her skin once fair now appeared almost a gray color, her eyes which once had the twinkle of joy in them, now seemed to cry out in pain.

Sadness pierced Devin’s heart. He knew the young lady; they had grown up together, and at one point were lovers, but duty came first for Devin and their romance had been put away amongst other childish things. He had married a noble and went on to fulfill his purpose as a politician. He had seen her at times but never knew if she had married, or ever loved again. For her to have a child was surprising for him.  

Her name was Liana, although he hadn’t seen her in years, the pain and sadness had endured within Devin’s heart. Would things have been different had he stayed with her? Would she have endured life without pain? Questions of this nature passed throughout his mind. Did she deserve to die? Could he have prevented it?

“My lord,” Sethal’s hissing voice broke the thoughts and Devin’s gaze, “what is your will with the child? It is written in the ancient scripts that if there is a creature which carries this mark, he must be killed.”

Devin focused on the child. He couldn’t help but feel pity for the infant. His heart sank into despair. It seemed as though a part of what he once loved was in the babe, and yet he couldn’t allow his personal feelings overcome his duty.

“Is there any other way?” Devin asked hoping for another solution.

Sethal looked directly into the eyes of his lord with seriousness, “There is no other way.”

Forcing himself to look away Devin replied with a sigh, “It should be decided by the people,”

A wicked smile stretched across Sethals face. He knew Devin didn’t trust his judgment. It was no matter, for he knew the people did, and that they would follow his council to the ends of the earth.

Cautiously, he carried the child out of the room and down the dark corridors. Ignorantly he looked upon his small victim. He sneered at how a small thing could bring such evil into his destiny. Determined to prevent whatever this child was to bring to pass, he vowed to not let it happen. He could not let this creature destroy him. Tonight he would end it and the dark fate of the city would never pass.

The guards opened the doors at the end of the corridor where Sethal exited the building onto the steps.  The entire city stood below him in the streets. Just beyond him at the edge of the stairs stood the altar.

Lifting the child above his head, he cried in a loud voice for all to hear, “Behold the child!”

Curiously and cautiously the citizens focused their attention on their High Priest.

 “It was written long ago, when The Shadow poisoned the land, that whosoever possess this mark which you see upon this child would be a servant of wickedness.” Sethal continued.

Cries of terror echoed amongst the crowd, their worst nightmare had come.

“What say ye should be the fate of this child?!” Sethal cried.

Shouts and chants of death arose. “Let him die!” cried an Elf in the crowd. “Better him than us!” shouted a woman. Frantically they watched and rallied with anxiousness.

Slowly Sethal placed the infant upon the altar and turned toward Devin who had stayed within the passageway out of sight from his audience.

“The people have spoken my lord,” he said as he drew his knife then turning toward the alter he raised it above his head in order to strike the babe “This dark destiny shall never fall upon us!”

 “Stop!”  A voice from amongst the crowd commanded with power. All fell to silence as a human clothed in robes approached the front, “Enough of this madness!”

He was large in stature with dark wavy hair, his eyes were a strong blue and his face looked as if he had not shaven in days. He also walked with a staff, not that he needed it for it was more of a symbol of wisdom and humility.

Sethal glared at the human. He knew the stranger was a monk of the Golden Order, an order established years ago within the human realms. His name was Cornelius and was living amongst the Elves for research of their culture and living.

“This is no concern of yours Cornelius!” Sethal sneered with disgust.

“It concerns me when an innocent life is at stake.” Cornelius replied approaching Sethal at the top of the stairs.

“This child is not innocent,” Sethal quickly replied. “He is fear, hatred, and darkness.”

“Then let it be known that the great race known as the Elves would fear something small and defenseless as that of a child. I heard the speech, but what he’s done and what he could do are two different things.”

Humiliation! That was what Cornelius wanted to accomplish, thought Sethal. This human may think he was special but Sethal was sure he could tell him otherwise.

“Why would a monk of the Golden Order have any interest in our ways or beliefs? Our kinds haven’t spoken nor have they dealt with one another for hundreds of years,” Sethal asked in an arrogant tone.

“Is it not in ones interests to gain as much knowledge as possible in one lifetime?”

“Knowledge of cultures and traditions," Sethal scoffed, "Ways that do not concern those who are from the outside. These are our ways and no one will stop me from carrying them out!” He raised his knife to strike.

Quickly and seemingly effortlessly, Cornelius charged with his staff and struck the priest to the ground. Without hesitation he grabbed the child and turned to defend himself against the charging guards who had drawn their weapons and were preparing to strike. With the child tucked away in his arms, Cornelius raised his staff ready for action.

“All hands stand down!” Devin barked as he entered into view.

The guards halted and lowered their arms. With authority Devin walked toward Cornelius who was still on his guard.

“What do you suggest monk?” he asked in a hopeful manner.

Cornelius smiled a small smirk of confidence, “Spare the infant's life. I’ll take him and teach him what he needs to know, and I promise you he will not become what you say he will become. As long as I’m alive I swear to you he will not.”

Devin was surprised by the proposal. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? It was almost unheard of. He hesitated for a moment, what would their fate be if this child lived? If anything he didn’t want to be responsible for the death of something that was innocent.

“Fine, take the lad into your care; I wash my hands of any incident hereafter. If anything happens my hands are clean.” He stated with authority. “His life is your responsibility Cornelius. I can’t protect him or you, and I won’t stop anyone. Do you understand?”

“When he’s ready he will return and you will see him as one of your own.” Cornelius stated, “But before that day you too must prepare and be ready to accept him back.” He glared toward Sethal who was now attempting to stand.

“Then until that day he is in your hands,” Devin proclaimed.

Nodding, the monk turned away; majestically he gazed across the crowd who had slowly dispersed to make way. With the child safely in his arms Cornelius walked toward the city gates.

Slowly rising and applying pressure to his bleeding forehead, Sethal shouted toward his attacker in anger and hate, “Go on monk! Run! Hide him as long as you can, you can’t protect him forever! I swear to you I will not step down until that child’s blood is upon my hands! Do you hear me Monk! His life is mine!”

Without stopping or looking back, Cornelius with the child fled from the city walls into the night and hid deep within the forest. He named the babe Galatin, after one of the great leaders of the Golden Order. From that day forth the child was known throughout the land as Galatin the Dark One.