Memory of The Phoenix; The Hunters [I]

PROLOGUE - THE PRISON

The Cave at The End of The World

"In my younger years, back when I was just a mere thief, I was hired by a strange woman with long black hair and pale skin. She sent me into an ancient library in the heart of the Empire where I was to reclaim an ancient, forgotten tome. I read through those bleached and torn pages and learned the truth. Split is older than any of us known, the Gods once walked amongst mortalkind and that one day, soon. The world will end in the shadow of a glorious Phoenix."

- Kalius Gelluis, Leader of The Followers of The Black Phoenix

Far from any civilisation, in a country too chaotic and barren for most; where a never ending blizzard swept the land and covering the ground in miles of ice and snow, there sat a cave. This cave lead deep, deep and down into a forgotten darkness, of which had never felt the warmth or light of the blazing red sun the world orbited. The cave lead to a labyrinth with infinite corridors of countless illusions and traps that no mere mortal could traverse, a labyrinth to keep people out by the sheer madness one would gain travelling the impossible lengths.

At the end of the labyrinth, if there truly was an end, sat a small, oval shaped opening resembling a room; with smooth reddish stone walls and floors, the roof was cracked and random, yet no stalactites were present anywhere, nor a speck of dust. Few things were present in the almost barren room, the most obvious of which was the single, fist sized, perfectly cylinder ball of pure light, humming an almost silent drone and just barely illuminating the room in a yellowish aura.

The other, more prominent, feature to this almost empty room was me, a figure that had been a permanent figure to the cave room almost as long as the tiny orb of light. The orb, unlike myself, could move. Though I had learned long ago, the orb chose not to do so much, only occasionally bobbing up and down in place as it continued it's silent, ear piercing drone. Beyond me staring at the orb, the labyrinth opened up through a doorway, only ever leading into the infinite darkness where no love may shine. Even the cold from the blizzard above never made it this far down

Despite my current lifestyle, where my one true friend on this planet was an inanimate orb of magical crafted light, I let out a small, subtle smile. The kind one would make at a corny joke or the sight of an old friend.

Though, I had my doubts that the eventual arrival of the once prideful and lively figure, now a damaged and deranged, a tortured husk of their past self saw me as the friend I saw them. In truth, I was the one being the one creature in the infinite multiverse they could really talk to, the one being in this universe they chose to talk to. Yet there was little more than hatred beyond those milky white and dying eyes, a once strong, sharp, sunflower shade of yellow. The two of us had known each other for longer than most friendships lasted, longer than most lifetimes lasted. But despite my efforts, all of my efforts... The lone real emotion that radiated from the figured before me was, as always, that of pure and unfiltered hatred. With sprinklings of disgust, fear and anger. Those emotions are what kept me going in this long hiatus from the surface. The levels that one person could have towards something, towards me, was something I was always astounded by, never before in history, never before in this dimension or any other could there be so much hate.

The figure before me was male identifying, with dark and heavy bags under his severely wrinkled, barely open eyes. Of which were currently staring down at the red rock floor of the cave, avoiding the mana orb floating above as if the mere thought of light would hurt. The skin had turned to a thin, pale leather, covered in moles and other such age marks. Scars of various colours and depths covered both visible and covered skin, one side of the face had a large red-purple splotch covering most of it. Leading from almost the forehead down much of the neck and shoulder. It was a clear sign of an old, painful, magically induced wound, hardening the skin or turning it pale and dead. The ear on that side was shrivelled up, barely a nub remained, and the eye was likewise covered in burn scars, totally bloodshot. It went without saying that this caused the right side of his body to be in almost constant, agonising pain. Despite how the right hand was shaking and shivering in constant unease, the left did so too, though much less than the damaged arm. A few fingers would occasionally twitch on their own due to prominent nerve damage, and the left pinky finger was missing. Only three fingers had nails left on them, and those were shallow, cracked and covered in dirt and dried blood. The skin of each fingertip was an oil black, with extruded veins and indentations.