King Beast - Vicious Flames

Chapter 1 ~ A soul for the soulless

FTR or RR? 

or RRR? ;)

These were ancient times, too old for a human, mortal brain to fully comprehend. God did not yet exist, neither in the minds of men nor in reality. The establishment of the Church was a thousand years away, with its convents and laws serving as a refuge even in the darkest moments of history.

These were not the times of men, as the earth belonged to something else. Often, humans refer to this something else as 'them' or 'they'.

Dense forests shamelessly reigned, and it was humans who had to adapt to their majestic presence.

The they hammered the land, with their kingdoms and eternal wars, while humans were gathered in skimpy groups, struggling to fight extinction and survive today.

"Come, quick," the hushed voice said.

In an orderly line, the hooded figures followed their Pastor down a narrow, steep pathway of stairs that descended in a zigzag and seemed to stretch down to the deepest bowels of the earth - the safest place at that time, for pointy ears and onyx eyes seldom reached there.

Lacing the path were dwarf doors that hid human chambers, dug into the rock and ground. Like so many glimmers of a hope that was a lie, thousands of candles lit the way and followed the group with each step.

You never knew what so much blackness concealed, especially in those darkest, most distant corners, where the sure arms of light were unable to reach and reveal its terrible secrets. Bigger flames, such as torches, were not recommended as it was rumoured to attract 'them'. It was also believed that some of them could flow through darkness, while others were called by the wind.

"Our prayers have been heeded," The Pastor announced; only his beard,  as curled and dusty as he, was visible from that black hood, "At the third stroke of neverlight, it will be irreversible."

Humans have dwelled in the shadow of evil every day, hoping that they had better things to do, better food, better entertainment.

The Two Mothers tried hard to reset the unbalance of wickedness but in vain, as evil was part of life, surer than a sunrise. Yet, they could give humans a chance to live a somewhat fairer game of life. Children snatched from their parents' arms, the endless plains of unmarked graves, an underground life, surrounded by damp earth and roots.... All of this would be a terrible memory, a scar in human history.

"Our ancestors did not live in vain," A female voice whimpered, clutching the smaller form of her baby to her fragile body. The group had reached the bottom of their damp shelter and formed a half moon, the Pastor in the middle.

"Can we finally say hello to the sun?"

The pastor felt a wave of poisonous nostalgia. A lifetime or more had passed since he had last been kissed by daylight.

"Oh, what a joy to see the trees and the rivers you have talked so much about!" said another hooded figure.

"And grow our own vegetables..." One more said in a whisper.

"Why? Beets are not all that bad."

"Ew. It colors my tongue purple."

All those words were new, an effort for the throats that produced them and ears that absorbed them. An inattention, to the excitement of the moment.

Silence meant protection those days.

The Pastor placed a finger on his lips. "Children of the Earth, careful. They might hear. The Prince might hear."