《Sands Of A Shattered Hourglass》 Prologue - The Last Light of Blindburn As his home smoldered around him, as the blood grew sticky beneath his feet, Gerard dragged another charred corpse into position. He returned to the book¡ªhis guiding light through this darkness that had, without warning, swallowed his life, the channel his fear and anger could run through towards something constructive, something more final. For the anger that pierced his young heart and the tears that had run dry against his cheeks would soon turn into something more: vengeance. Reading from the book, he recited the incantation, his hate-filled voice cutting through the perverse serenity of the night, growing louder and louder into a thunderous crescendo, ¡°From brimstone cometh, from blood and sacrifice take root upon this plane, bring torture and famine, suffering and malice, my soul as your offering, Darkness from the hells ascend!¡± Nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. He repeated the incantation again and again, growing more frantic with each repetition. He checked the book desperately, flipping through its tattered pages as if the answer would suddenly appear. He adjusted the corpses, adjusted the wording, his tone¡ªtrying to infuse the wording with malice, hatred, fear, desperation. His voice, already hoarse, whittled away to silence, leaving him alone in the moonlight. Nothing. He looked down at his hands and the pile of corpses beyond them¡ªthe corpses of his friends and family, desecrated in one last desperate blunder. Magic was never going to be the answer. Magic had fled westward, drawing with it the prosperity all had enjoyed. And chasing its fleeting tail were the marauders and bandits who had reduced Gerard¡¯s home to ash as they too moved westward. He threw the book to the ground. The dusty old tome split at the spine and slumped open. It had been well hidden, well enough to survive the looting. Gerard had always been suspicious of the vicar. It seemed unlikely that Blindburn could have survived so long without the aid of magic. No mage had ever revealed themselves to him yet strings of coincidences can be noticed by the sharp of mind. He¡¯d found the leatherbound tome with ¡°FORBIDDEN¡± scrawled across its cover in the ruins of the church and hoped that the contents would somehow save him. Its nature was appalling, profane rituals so foul they would forever taint the memory of Blindburn¡¯s peace. To think this was what was required for safety. Yet, luckily, Gerard seemed to have a near-limitless supply of blood and corpses to work with. He lowered himself to the floor of what had once been his loving home; the memories of stories read by firelight, joyful, and hearty family dinners swallowed by the scars wrought through his mind by tragedy. As he lay there, the last ember of hope inside him petering out to nothing, flame burst upwards from the summoning circle. The roaring inferno surged upwards into the night sky, towards where the roof once was. Gerard flinched backwards, the heat blistering against his skin. The flame abated an instant later and in its place stood a demonic figure with crimson skin, gnarled horns, and eyes fully black. Its irises flickered to life, the color of hell¡¯s fire. The figure stood bathed in moonlight, motes of snow settling upon him¡ªa welcome to the earth. The demon locked eyes with Gerard and spoke, its voice deep and commanding, ¡°Give me your name.¡± ¡°I am¡­ I am Gerard. Gerard of Blindburn, and I am your summoner.¡± The corners of the demon''s lips curled upwards into a cruel smile. Gerard stared up, flecks of steel in his gaze. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°And I am Thraxxovinak the Treacherous. For what have you disturbed me, Gerard?¡± ¡°I want¡­¡± His emotions rose, threatening to surface for the first time since the tragedy. He wanted his mother¡¯s embrace, his father¡¯s stern but caring words, his friends¡¯ laughter, the sound of the blacksmith''s hammer, to help in the fields come harvest. ¡°Enough. Tell me of this place.¡± ¡°This place? This is my home. Me, my mum, my dad, we were going to stay as the magic fled westward. We all were. None of us could use it to begin with. At least that¡¯s what everyone had said. I was born here and I haven¡¯t known anyplace else nor will I ever need to. We have everything, sheep and cows, metal and soil. We had it good I admit it. But we did nothing to deserve this. Those animals, those feral beasts that did this. I want their bones smashed and limbs torn apart. We did nothing to bring this upon ourselves. Nothing.¡± ¡°And how did you summon me?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know magic. It¡¯s almost gone from here by now anyway. But I found a book. I was sure there was one, hidden by the vicar. How else would a place like this stay safe? So I tried and I tried and it worked.¡± ¡°And so you¡¯ve come to bargain.¡± ¡°Yes. I have." ¡°I ask you again, Gerard. For what have you disturbed me? What is it you desire?" ¡°I want vengeance.¡± ¡°Vengeance? How droll. I¡¯d hoped for something a little less trite but I suppose, given the circumstances it¡¯s the obvious choice. I shall grant you vengeance should you have something suitable to offer me in return.¡± Gerard looked down for an instant, before clutching his fists and meeting Thraxx¡¯s eyes again with his steel flecked gaze. ¡°I offer my soul." The words hung in the air. A resignation to eternal suffering at the whims of this unknown demon, but in this moment, it seemed more worth it than anything. The demon savored the imbalance of the situation, running its forked tongue against its lips. ¡°Your soul, boy?¡± He laughed. ¡°What makes you think your soul would be worth a thing to me? Mortals, so self-centered.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Gerard deflated. Of course things weren¡¯t so simple but what else could he give. The souls of others? It was an unpalatable thought. ¡°Surely, you can offer something better,¡± he prompted, his tone almost patronizing. The demon leaned in closer, his towering form casting a shadow over Gerard. ¡°Ten souls? A hundred? I don''t know how but I''ll get them for you. The book said... it said a soul is what a demon hungers for, more than anything.¡± ¡°Your books lied, boy.¡± ¡°I can give you the book and all the knowledge within, I¡¯ll gather up every drop of blood on this mountain and feed it to you, you can have this village, my memories. Please. Please! I want them to feel what they did to me. I¡¯ll give you anything.¡± ¡°Anything? Hmm. It seems you don¡¯t have much to give, just empty promises and things that don¡¯t belong to you. Just break the circle and I¡¯ll be on my way.¡± ¡°No, please, anything. Anything you can imagine, I¡¯ll give you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re persistent Gerard, I¡¯ll give you that. And I¡¯m nothing if not generous. Very well, give me your life.¡± ¡°I will,¡± said Gerard. Blurting the words out before his mind had a chance to process them. His heart sank and rose at the same time. So this was it. Yet it would be worth it. ¡°Worry not,¡± said the demon, its tone of sardonic elation. ¡°You may have mine in return. I¡¯m nothing if not generous,¡± and with another flash of flame he disappeared. Alone once more, Gerard¡¯s last sight was the wretched altar of corpses he¡¯d erected. His last earthly sensation was the cold of the snowy night and the smell of iron. A different, unearthly cold crept up his spine and wrapped itself around his heart, before igniting into an agonizing fire. He cried out one last time, choking as the smell of acrid smoke filled his lungs. Striking a pathetic form before collapsing, arm outstretched as if anything could help. As the light drained from his eyes, Blindburn was left to darkness. 1. Born of Ashes Thraxx awoke, his senses slowly creeping back to life in Gerard¡¯s frail form. The choking taste of smoke clung to the back of his throat¡ªdisgusting. But, he supposed, a necessary consequence for the ritual to be sufficiently theatric. He cleared his throat and spat. Thraxx stood. His situation was truly distasteful. A ring of bodies lay before him, broken and bloodied, and the house around him was burnt beyond repair, with an open roof letting in the morning light. He was filthy and poorly rested. The cold was uncomfortable, almost as detestable as the heat he¡¯d come from. Leaving his body in a state like this, that bastard child truly had no manners. Ah well, he was already in the process of getting his comeuppance. Thraxx grabbed the split tome from the floor and stepped over the threshold of the burnt home, shivering involuntarily¡ªsurely from the cold, an involuntary impulse tied to this mortal body. The skeletal remains of a village jutted out of the snow like the charred bones of a great beast. Nothing he wasn¡¯t used to, of course, but a reminder that his new mortal brethren may not be so different from his old demonic kin. He shivered once more. A nice confirmation that it truly was just cold. Thraxx held his hand before him, focusing, willing a roaring flame to burst forth from his palm. A weak orange glow flickered to life, ember motes drifting feebly into the wind. He tried again, with the same result. Perhaps it was this new form. But no¡ªmagic was shaped by the soul, not the body. That couldn¡¯t be the reason. The kid had stuttered something about magic fading. Yet another vexation. ¡°You there!¡± A voice rang through the torn village. Thraxx looked over, spotting a man on horseback approaching, his mount¡¯s footsteps cushioned by the silence of snow. The rider cantered over. ¡°Boy, are you alright? Are there any more survivors?¡± Thraxx eyed him suspiciously. The man was dressed clean, dressed in well-made clothes and tightly groomed. ¡°It¡¯s only me, ¡° the voice that came from Thraxx¡¯s throat felt alien, weak. He focused on speaking from deeper in his chest. ¡°The others were slaughtered, one after another, like cattle. It was marauders traveling westwards, the village was defenseless. I was out hunting, checking traps. By the time I came back it was too late. I tried to tend to the wounded, but by nightfall, they had all passed,¡± he lied. ¡°How terrible it is to have witnessed. You need not put on a brave face before me, boy. Let your tears flow freely.¡± The man extended a hand down from his horse. ¡°Come on boy, let us go find you a hot meal. You¡¯ve been through enough.¡± Thraxx took it and clambered onto the back of the horse, clutching the book tightly, careful to hide the etchings on the cover. ¡°Thank you kindly. I was truly without hope. What brought you here?¡± ¡°A scouting mission. I¡¯ve been tasked with finding the current boundaries of magic, a service to my city¡ªan honor, truly. I confirmed the boundary three days ago and have been headed back since. I suspect the last traces of magic will be gone from here within the year.¡± ¡°Which city is that,¡± Thraxx said. ¡°Kaeyr, the greatest city this world has seen. Magic is still vibrant, more so than ever. The nobles live on floating islands and even the poor live a life of abundance.¡± ¡°Sounds an interesting place,¡± Thraxx murmured. The tall tales failed to pierce his natural cynicism. He supposed they were platitudes meant to distract a distraught boy. As the horse trotted through the snow-covered remains of the village, Thraxx allowed himself to relax a little, learning into the warmth of the noble¡¯s back and listening to him wax poetic about Kaeyr. The human body¡¯s instincts were amusingly simple¡ªcold, thirst, hunger¡ªnot the same rapturous hunger for souls demons often felt, something more cloying and incessant, which now demanded his attention. ¡°I must say, it¡¯s quite a stroke of luck I found you,¡± said the noble. ¡°Had I come by a day later, you might have been buried under snow. ¡°Luck indeed,¡± Thraxx murmured. The ride continued onwards, Thraxx feeling weaker as the hours crept on. Not only had Gerard started him off in his wretched place, he¡¯d also given a body hungry and exhausted from hours of struggle. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. By midday, the snow had stopped and the pair arrived before a simple wooden inn, sitting quaintly beside the snowed-over path. Only the desperate would choose such a building to shelter in. Thraxx suspected the noble would never stop at such a place by choice, but in this moment, Thraxx was truly desperate. They dismounted, the noble tethering the horse to a post outside. ¡°Come now boy, let¡¯s get you inside. There¡¯s warmth and food, you could surely need it.¡± Was that pity? Thraxx felt disgusted. To be pitied, how vile. Perhaps he should trick the noble into giving his soul away as well. Proper recompense for such detestable sympathy. But Thraxx was tired. He said nothing, taking the nobles help to dismount, and followed him inside. The inside of the inn was basic but comfortable. The fire in the hearth projected heat that Thraxx felt awful to be appreciative of considering the heat he¡¯d come from. The inn stank of stew, an eternal medley of root vegetables and salted meat that never left the pot, which by the rumbling of his stomach, Thraxx¡¯s new body clearly yearned for. ¡°Have a seat by the fire,¡± the noble said, guiding Thraxx to a chair near the hearth. ¡°I¡¯ll speak with the innkeeper.¡± Thraxx sat. Good. It was natural for him to be served. Let his underlings talk to the commoners. The noble returned a moment later, taking a seat across from Thraxx. ¡°They¡¯ll bring some stew in a moment. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯ll warm you up.¡± The noble was clearly proud of his benevolence. He seemed desperate to project an air of nobility and justness. Maybe it was exploitable, this need for validation. Perhaps he was of a lesser house. In fact that was surely it being sent to such a far flung corner of the world with no entourage. Thraxx made the decision to withhold thanks. When the stew arrived, steaming and fragrant, Thraxx dropped his pretenses. He savagely shoveled carrots and potatoes down his throat as quickly as possible, slurping the stew¡¯s liquid with no abandon. A second bowl soon shared the same fate as the first. ¡°This city you mentioned, Kaeyr, it sounds wondrous,¡± Thraxx started. ¡°It is,¡± replied the noble. ¡°I am blessed to hail from such a fine land.¡± ¡°Are all its people as just as you are?¡± asked Thraxx. ¡°The people are kind and fair. But in all places, surely you know, there are those with dark hearts and those with light.¡± ¡°What do you mean? What sort of darkness?¡± ¡°Well¡­ thieves, criminals, wretched addicts. Many it¡¯s not their fault. But no place has perfection, that¡¯s for the Gods alone. Kaeyr is better than any place else, that I can assure you.¡± ¡°Sounds a good place to start a life when one has nothing left,¡± Thraxx looked at the noble expectedly. ¡°I can think of no better. I¡­¡± the noble caught himself as he looked at Thraxx¡¯s pleading face. He steeled himself and resigned to his duty, ¡°Perhaps, if you¡¯re willing, you could join my journey back and witness its wonder yourself.¡± Thraxx hesitated, just long enough for the noble to believe that he was considering the offer. In truth, there was no hesitation. Food, shelter, knowledge, all out of some naive noblesse oblige - he¡¯d be a fool not to take it. Whether he got to Kaeyr or not made no difference. ¡°I don¡¯t want to impose,¡± Thraxx said quietly, his voice tinged with reluctance. ¡°You¡¯ve already done so much for me. But¡­ if you truly think it would help¡­¡± The noble¡¯s expression softened, his pride swelling at the thought of being a savior. ¡°Nonsense. It would be my honor to escort you to Kaeyr. Besides, I could use the company on the road. Traveling alone is a lonely business, and you seem like a bright young man. I¡¯d be glad to have you along.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± he finally said, trying to disguise the smug smirk threatening to emerge from his face. The noble smiled a kind smile. ¡°Think nothing of it. We¡¯ll set out on the morrow, for now we can get you some rest.¡± The noble patted him on the shoulder and left to speak to the innkeeper to get them rooms. Thraxx soon found himself upon a straw mattress staring at a wooden ceiling. Orange motes drifted from his outstretched hand as he pulsed magic again and again. It was stronger than before, maybe he could spark tinder, but still laughably weak. How in the hells was the boy able to summon him? He stared at the split tome, pledging to begin studying it tomorrow. Sleep caught up to him quickly, a sensation he hadn¡¯t felt in millenia, before his memory even began. Yet he slept soundly through the night until he woke up burning. 2. The First Morning of Spring Thraxx awoke to golden light filling his room, a golden light that had become so familiar. He stirred from his comfortable dent in the middle of the cheap mattress, the straw scratching at him. The room was delightfully, familiarly warm, so very warm. He opened his eyes a crack, seeing that golden light dancing hazily at the foot of his bed. Ah, it¡¯s just fire, he thought, contentedly laying there as the flames crept closer. He rolled over, closer to the heat, until the sensation of his flesh being seared forced him back. He scrambled away, now fully awakened. This blasted body, he cursed to himself. But even in this form the fire would post no threat if not for this infernal lack of magic. A wall of flame blocked his path to the exit. He pivoted off the bed, coughing involuntarily as the oily smoke filled his lungs, glass from a shattered lantern cut at his feet. The humans here truly lacked decorum; they¡¯d be well at home in the pits of the hells¡ªa fate Thraxx looked forward to helping them meet. He grabbed both parts of the book, stuffing it into his pillowcase and tying it to his belt loop as he retreated to the furthest corner from the blaze. The soul shapes magic, and Thraxx was a demon, corrupted by the fiery pits of the hells. Fire had always been, and would always be, his specialty. It dare not hurt him. He assured himself of that fact, focusing all the magic he could muster as he ran forward and leapt through the flames toward the open door. He burst into the hallway, still at a sprint, his feet trailing blood along the packed dirt floor. A man stood before the noble¡¯s room, dressed ruggedly and of a thin frame, lighting an oil lamp he¡¯d taken from the inn''s wall¡ªpreparing to torch his next victim. Thraxx closed the gap, grabbing the man¡¯s face and releasing all the heat he¡¯d taken in a single burst. The man let out a desperate scream as his flesh cooked. His flint, steel, and the unlit lamp dropped to the floor as he struggled to wrench Thraxx¡¯s hand free before collapsing to the ground. ¡°Marauders! Get yourself to safety,¡± Thraxx yelled into the noble¡¯s room, calculating that the man¡¯s life might be more useful than any further element of surprise. Thraxx headed for the inn''s entry room, just along the short hallway. The intruder¡¯s partner looked up from hurriedly packing salted meats into his pack, grabbing a rusted dagger from his belt loop. The man was bigger, stronger looking than the first marauder, with a bald head and a crooked nose, and worse still, Thraxx lacked another burst of flame. Seeing a metal pan hanging from a hook, Thraxx grabbed it to have a weapon of his own. The bandit moved towards him. Thraxx brandished the pan aggressively, circling the inn, careful to keep tables and columns between them. Slowly, slowly, anything to buy additional time. He channeled what little magic he could muster into the pan, heating it slowly yet steadily. All he needed was time for it to become searing hot, then even the slightest contact would give him the upper hand. The bandit feigned a lunge here and there, but Thraxx remained patient, ensuring the distance couldn¡¯t be closed. As they circled once more, Thraxx kept his distance, positioning himself near the exit while the bandit lingered by the corridor leading to the rooms. The noble emerged from the hallway, right beside the bandit, guiding the old innkeeper with his right arm. ¡°Boy, where are you?¡± He called as he emerged from the smoke. In the same second, the bandit turned to him, plunging his raised dagger downwards towards the nobleman¡¯s heart. The noble raised left hand, instinctively blocking, but the dagger pierced through and into his shoulder, only barely redirected. The bandit pulled the dagger back for another strike but the noble grabbed him by the wrist. In the split second delay, Thraxx swung his pan, pressing it hard into the bandit¡¯s back. The man yelped in pain, trying to pivot backwards but was still held by the noble. His shirt caught alight under the intense heat and his skin began to sizzle and blister. The bandit writhed, dropping to the ground. ¡°Run boy!¡± The noble yelled, still hurrying straight for the exit, pulling the innkeeper with him. Thraxx hurled the pan down, eliciting more yelps from the writhing bandit, and ran for the door. Outside, the noble¡¯s horse wandered anxiously, having been cut loose from its post. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Thraxx, help get the old man up,¡± the noble commanded. Thraxx obliged, thrusting the innkeeper upwards and keeping him steady. The trio traveled down the dirt road, frantically at first but quickly slowing down as it seemed they weren¡¯t pursued. After a time, they stopped at the roadside, hidden from sight by a thicket of brambles. ¡°I believe we¡¯re far enough to spare a moment to rest,¡± said the noble. Though he tried to speak resolutely, a glance at the hand hanging limply by his side and the growing red patch spreading from his shoulder made clear the seriousness of his request. Thraxx rooted through the noble¡¯s saddlebag, finding a knife. ¡°You should lay down, give me a moment and I can stem the bleeding,¡± he said. The noble lowered himself to the dirt. ¡°You did well there boy. Many men would panic, waking up to their room aflame, but I didn¡¯t see that in you for a second. I believe we owe you our survival.¡± The irony struck Thraxx immediately. Was this the standard of human life? He¡¯d been a mortal for a single day and was already being thanked as a savior. Him, a hero? If his long laid plan came to fruition every generation of men would curse his name until the last grain of sand ran from time¡¯s hourglass. But the branding was useful. ¡°It was just instinct, I couldn¡¯t bear to see what happened to my village again.¡± The innkeeper looked at him curiously, ¡°You¡¯ve seen this type before then and survived that as well.¡± He looked down at the knife in Thraxx¡¯s hand, noticing a slight haze shimmering around the blade, as the snow drops that landed upon it melted and began to steam. ¡°I was a much younger man when I last saw someone use magic as you do. I thought it was as good as gone. Perhaps the Gods¡¯ have made amends for your misfortune.¡± ¡°They would need to go further than that,¡± replied Thraxx. Now done heating the knife he took the noble''s hand and pressed the flat of the blade against the wound, sealing the flow of blood. The noble bit back his cries of pain, thumping and gripping at the earth, but the wound on his shoulder remained. As Thraxx tended to the noble, the innkeeper wandered back and forth, seemingly searching for something. ¡°Perhaps they will yet or perhaps you¡¯re yet to fully realize their gifts; either way it''s foolish to speak ill of them. I¡¯ve seen a lot of people come through my inn, mostly local merchants and farmers, simple folk, but all sorts through the years. Adventurers and priestly sorts, thieves and down-on-their-luck nobles, but you stand out among them. I haven¡¯t seen a lad with quite your air.¡± Thraxx shrugged. ¡°These are different times,¡± he said as he pressed the hot metal down onto the noble¡¯s shoulder, holding steady as he squirmed, grunts of pain escaped as the noble bit down onto a stick. Thraxx pulled back quickly after the blood solidified. ¡°I suppose it is. Fleeing magic, a plague of bandits, and the youth half-blessed, half-cursed; I don¡¯t idol the path laid out for you younger generations.¡± ¡°Nor I yours. What¡¯s left for you without your inn?¡± ¡°To rebuild, same as always.¡± ¡°Alone? In the winter?¡± ¡°Winter¡¯s almost over, these are the flurries of spring. I¡¯ll be fine, there¡¯s no need to worry, I¡¯ve had a whole lifetime to prepare for hardship. It¡¯s you youth who we need to worry for, unfortunately though I¡¯m not in a position to be of much help, I couldn¡¯t even give you a night of proper refuge.¡± Thraxx couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. The nerve of saying such a thing to a demon who had spent lifetimes in preparation for this moment, sneakily planning in the depths of the hells themselves for this very chance to alter the mortal world beyond recognition. A chance that was so far off to a rather rocky start. The innkeeper finished his wanderings, and began crushing some mushrooms he¡¯d found between rocks, developing a thick paste which he then applied to the noble¡¯s sealed wounds. ¡°This will help defend against illness,¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°But you¡¯ll suffer greatly if you don¡¯t find a healer quickly. I hear there¡¯s plentiful enough magic in Ethusci, I would hurry there.¡± Ethusci. The word stirred at the deepest recesses of Thraxx¡¯s mind, memories carved over long ago. ¡°To Ethusci then,¡± said the noble, his pain temporarily dulled. He glanced between the innkeeper and Thraxx. ¡°To both of you I give my thanks,¡± ¡°Same to you, my friend,¡± said the innkeeper. ¡°I only wish there was more I could give.¡± With that, their brief alliance came to an end. With a firm handshake and a nod, the innkeeper headed back along the road they¡¯d came along, resolute in his duty, his eyes betraying the weariness of a man who had weathered many storms. "I¡¯ll see to what remains of my inn. You two, take care on the road." "Thank you," the noble said, his voice sincere. "May we meet again under kinder circumstances." The innkeeper gave a thin smile. "May the Gods watch over you, lad. And you too, boy," he added, looking pointedly at Thraxx. Thraxx merely nodded, the name Ethusci still echoing in his mind, pulling at threads of memory he had thought long forgotten. They mounted the horse, Thraxx steadying the noble as they set off. The innkeeper watched them disappear down the road, the early morning light casting long shadows behind them. The path to Ethusci lay before them, winding through the remnants of winter and the first stirrings of spring.