Darsidian Myths, A Promise Heard

Prologue

I am the darsidian. I will not tell you who, or what I am. What I will tell you is a story of good and evil. It is a memory I can never forget.

As the sun began to set the single lunvarin couldn't help but think of the past and future. The past was set and unchanging, the future blurry. The war was about to become more complicated and dangerous. Other lives, innocent lives, would soon be consumed by the war.

From atop a tower, in the middle of a vast fortress, he watched the sun set upon the horizon. As beautiful as the spectacle was his thoughts were elsewhere that evening. He didn't even notice the cold wind that constantly occupied the tower.

He looked down at the black sword in his hands. It was an elegant two-handed blade, like other lunvarin weapons it was made from a substance they called obsidian. Yet it wasn't actually made from the material obsidian, but a special substance only his people could create.

As he gazed at the sword he couldn't help but feel lost and alone, for the blade reminded him of its owner. She had been a strong, beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman. A woman he loved, but she was gone now. She had been taken from him a long time ago, taken by the war he was still fighting.

Like most lunvarin his body was slim and completely covered in his race's unique, plated armor. Just like the sword he was holding, his armor was also made from obsidian, and it was as black as can be. His helm, which had long pointed ears decorating the sides, nearly covered his entire head; the only openings were small slits for the eyes, ears, and mouth. Six streaks of white ran across the armor on one of his shoulders. The stripes represented his military rank along with the element he wielded. Places where plated armor was absent were instead covered by a smooth, flexible, scale like material that hugged the body tightly. Despite the battles his armor had witnessed over the years there were no scars or dents on its smooth, glossy surface.

As he continued to ponder the war he gradually became aware of footsteps behind him. It was rare for anyone to visit him when he was atop the tower. Usually he had it all to himself.

The visitor stopped behind him. "Father, may I have a word?"

The father turned to the voice's owner and saw his son, Bardir.

Bardir was wearing simple blue robes with yellow trimming running across the clothing's edges. The sleeves were quite long, going well beyond the wearer's hands. The hood was drawn over the youth's head, almost obscuring the young man's face.

"What is it?" asked the father as he concealed the sword he was holding in a cloth. He didn't want his son to see the blade. It would only bring back unwelcome feelings.

Bardir walked beside his father as he eyed the piece of cloth suspiciously. "Nothing really, I just came up here to see if you were all right. Everyone gets worried when you come up here."

"They don't have to worry about me" assured the father. "I came up here because I need some time to think."

"Are you up here because of Elincia?"

The father glanced at the sunset as he recalled his thoughts. "Partly."

"I thought as much, has she really attacked the easterners?"

"Yes."

"So, she has finally broken her promise. What's going to happen now?"

"The champions and I have come to a decision; we will break our promise to Elincia."