The White Orb

Prologue

The man hunched over his precious item, trying to blend in with the dark and rain. Thunder clapped, shaking the ground. Flashing light briefly illuminated the man, showing his aging features in stark contrast.
His was a tanned old man with whitening hair. Hunching in his sodden cloak, he looked desperate, despairing, but determined. For he held the fate of his world in his hands, and if his pursuers got a hold of it, disaster would follow.
He took off again, trees whipping past. His old bones creaked in protest, whining for rest. But rest would be fatal. For the man, and for his world.
He snuck a quick peak at his talisman. The white marble shown faintly in his pocket, swirling with energy. So much power, in such a small item, the man thought. So much potential.
In the wrong hands, potential for destruction.
So that's why he had to get rid of it.
But where? Nowhere in this land was safe for this power. Eventually, it would fall into human hands again, and the power would corrupt. It would destroy.
Suddenly the man stopped. It was still raining, though the thunder had stopped. But there was another noise, one that did not belong to the storm.....
The sound of galloping horses.
Help me, Mist! he thought in fear.
The man took off again, twice as desperate. They had found him! They would take the marble, and bring doom to the world!
The horse noises quickly caught up. Becoming careless with fear, the old man tripped over a root and fell in the watery mud. Thunder crashed.
And the man found himself surrounded by men on black horses. The stallions shown in the half-light, covered in sweat and rain, breathing heavily. The men were covered in armor and weapons.
Mist, help! he thought as hard as he could. But nothing happened. The men just stayed there, pinning the old man in. He could feel their boring gazes filled with hatred burning into him.
One of the men dismounted, armor clanking. He picked the old man up by his collar.
"You thought you could hide it from me, Tanner?", the man sneered. "I think you forget that I am King Clayton Garemir of Grantrex, and no one escapes me! Especially with the orb of pure power."
The old man, Tanner, stared straight into the depths of the King's eyes, seeing the malice and eagerness inside. The madness.
He could not let this man get the orb! The whole world's fate could be resting on this one moment, and the old man thought that he was a pathetic protector of the world.
The King shoved Tanner back into the slimy mud. "Search him," he ordered his soldiers. They dismounted with vigor, eager to please their lord with a job well done.
Save the orb! he mentally called a final time in desperation.
As the knights quickly approached, something strange happened. The rain suddenly stopped, and a quick mist flooded in. The knights stopped in surprise at how fast the fog enveloped them. It was like it was alive.
And that wasn't far off.
Suddenly, Tanner heard a clear, monotone voice in his head, which seemed to swirl inside his mind with the mist.
-Give me the orb-
The old man nodded faintly in reply, slipping the glowing orb out of his pocket, cupping it in his frail hands. With the milky-white power inside swirling, already he could feel the power of the orb, calling and seducing him. Give in to the power, it seemed to say. The power will make you mighty.
King Clayton saw through the mist the shining of the orb. "Get him!" he screeched to his motionless knights.
The knights rushed forward, armor clanking, pushing themselves through the thick mist.
-Now- said the voice. -Give it to me, or it will fall into their hands-
Tanner took one last look at the infinite power in his hands, visibly hesitating. It could be his. The power, the glory. The invincibility.
But it was not meant for any man.
For power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
The old man launched the orb straight up into the air, out of sight into the mist.
The knights ran Tanner right over, throwing him into the mud. They began to move around, hands ready to catch the orb on its way back down.
But it did not fall back down.
"NO!!!!" King Clayton roared, clenching his hands in fury. The mist disappeared as fast as it had come, completely ignoring the enraged king's cry.
The knights all cowered in fear, hoping that the raging king would not take out his anger on them. And he didn't.
Instead, he turned to Tanner.
"You idiot!" the king screamed. He rushed forward and lifted the old man off the ground again. The King's eyes were full of absolute fury and madness. "The power! Gone! What were you thinking?!"
Before the frail man could respond, the king hurled him at his knights. "Take him to the castle!" he hissed.

A week later, the old man's mutilated body hung from a parapet of Garemir Castle.