Glory and Gore

Chapter 1:The Mist

WISTERIA

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I've been told that the most beautiful places held the darkest history; The Kingdom of Eritrea proved this to be true.

           The hottest day of summer so far is drawing to a close in the region of Asmaria. The grass that were once lush, emerald green, lay parched and yellowing. This time of the year is the time when people would visit the town of Eldham - a quiet, peaceful place with fine sand and blue ocean. Thus, a perfect place to relax.

Everyone except me. Because it would be the time when I would visit a place where no one wouldn't think of visiting - the town of Blackmont. Situated where the drylands meet the great grass plains, merchants would often stay overnight before continuing on. This town has led into a secondary market of 'lost' trade goods. The reason why people never visit there often is because it is near the borderline between east and west Eritrea. It is where the Mist was.

"We're here." said the man as soon as the carriage came into a halt. Jumping off from the back of the carriage, I thanked him before setting off.

The journey to Blackmont wasn't usually that difficult, not unless you were crammed at the back of the carriage with crates and barrels in it. It would cost me my month salary to rent a carriage, thankfully, the merchant from the capital was kind enough to drop me off.

I took the map I had taken from the cartographer's tent to seek for directions. I've been here twice...or maybe even more, but I'm still not used to the place due to some changes.

The map of Asmaria told me that I should go east-north from the old bell tower which is located down the marketplace to reach the Mist. Putting the map away, I wore my scarf as a hood and set off from the steep stone steps.

From time to time, I would wipe the sweat off my face with the sleeves of my clothes. The ground beneath me burned the sole of my sandals as I marched across the terrain despite of the extreme heat. The residents here are going to their whereabouts, not even bothered by the temperature.

From the tower, I strode across the deserted moor under the bright, blue sky. It took me a long walk before the Mist slowly came into view. The closer I get, the colder the air became. I walk towards it with a short, careful step as though it was a live creature that might attack me.

My eyes lingered at the extraordinary borderline of our kingdom; It was towering, hazy mist with some sort of dark clouds within it. It was enormous, which ends from north and south region. It's not the size or its appearance that makes the Mist terrifying, but the flesh-eating creatures that lives in it. An abomination - that's what they call it.

The Mist was once a stretch of land where big houses were built. Now it's a place where monster resides.

When I was child, I've been told about the tale of how the Mist came into life and how it tore the kingdom apart. For many years, magic has been the lifeblood of the Kingdom of Eritrea. The  Eritrean considered magic as part of their lives and Magic Wielders who were often referred to as blessed, are among them. Magic is accepted by many, but not by few.

Aldanor, the northern region of Eritrea known for their advance technology and armory, perceived the power of the Magic Wielders as dangerous and witch-like. Their men were trained to hunt and kill the Magic Wielders. Kestramore, the eastern region of Eritrea where the Magic Wielders live, is Aldanor's greatest enemy.