The Whitestone Legend

Escape From Whitestone

There was no moonlight to guide the young boy running through the snowy plain. His footsteps dug deep into the white snow. His breath was shallow and ragged from escaping his pursuers that seemed to always find him whenever he tried to lose them, as if they were hounds on a scent. There was no place to hide, or rest, nor was there anything he could see to use a weapon to attack in this desolate area of the woods. A heavy snow was falling in the woods of Whitestone, the icy air stabbed him all over his body like tiny daggers, and the snow was so deep that it went up to his ankle. Cold, so cold, he thought weakly. Was there any end to this nightmare?

"He's over there lads!" A voice yelled from a distance. 'Shite!', he thought, and began to run again, but he was weak from a loss of blood and from the amount of struggle to get away from the guards that held him captive in the dungeons. Through his bleary eyes, he saw the icy river that cut through the borderlands between some land and Whitestone. Seizing this desperate chance of escape, he jumped, and curled up his body to try and survive the impact the water would throw at him.

. . .

Cold. That was all he felt. He couldn't remember what warmth felt like after plunging into that icy river, the very choice he made when he escaped the place he once called home. The days he spent there all seemed like a dream that he could never dream up again. His family, friends, the people he knew would be long gone by now. Thrown into the depths of the dark god that waited in the underworld. What was life without his brother or the friend he loved after they took them away? Wouldn't it be better to die?

"So you're the brat's child, eh?" A raspy voice sliced through the silence that beheld him. "Open your eyes boy, and look at me. Your father's patron!" He did as the mysterious person asked him to. The person in front of him was none other than the Whispered One, or as holy people called him, the Dark. The Whispered One was nothing more than a skull with darkness surrounding it. Dark magic, he thought.

He coughed, but blood came out instead of air. "Who—!"

The skull came close to him. "Ah, so they didn't tell you of your fate as the next heir of the Tymzphere, eh? Well, that is something. Listen to me, and listen well, young Tymzphere, do you want revenge against the ones who wronged you? Kill the monsters who took away your life, and turned your world upside down? Just nod, or shake your head since you are too weak to answer such a question."

The last heir of the Tymzphere nodded.

"Do you wish to become strong and powerful?"

He nodded again, the anger swelling inside him.

"Then say this mentally, my heir. I, Riah Tymzphere, swear to dedicate my life to the Whispered One, and shall take no other road of power, nor faith. Done? Good. When you wake up, begin your journey small, think things carefully, and always use that mind you nurtured as a child. And remember, never think of yourself as a savior. People with my power tried to take that path, but ended in a horrible death. Make your choices wisely, my heir." The skull disappeared, and an agonizing pain formed in his right eye.

In the darkness, the mark of the Whispered One's heir was now in Riah Tymzphere's eye. 

A/N: The mark is a skull with wings and a sword inside it. Hope u guys are doing great!