Torrie The Dread

Prologue

In these fleeting moments, as the veil of life begins to thin, a profound realization washes over me. I am standing on the precipice of the eternal, the final grains of my existence slipping through the hourglass. I can't claim to have cherished every moment of my journey, nor can I say that the majority of it was spent in joy. Yet, in this twilight, it's the luminous flashes of happiness and the deepest shades of regret that dance before my eyes.

Holding the infant close, I feel the weight of unfulfilled promises and uncharted paths. “The decisions I’ve made, they're anchors now, tied to a future I won't see unfold. And you, little one, I can’t be there to guide you through the storms,” I whisper, my voice a fragile thread of sound. “Your path won't be easy, fraught with shadows and light, but it's a path of profound significance, more than the eyes of this world can perceive. I believe it, with every shard of my breaking heart.”

Traversing the elongated corridor of the ancient palace, my footsteps echo against the stone, a solemn drumbeat marking my departure. A voice, tender yet laden with despair, breaks the silence. “Stop, Malik. It’s not too late to undo your deeds! Leave the prince, and together, we can mend what's broken,” she pleads, her voice a haunting melody of hope and fear.

I halt, her words cascading over me like a bitter rain. “Frene, to trade my life for his is a trifle. Your son, he’s a beacon in the dark; even you've seen the spark within him. If he remains, the king’s wrath will surely be his end. I cannot—will not—let that be his fate,” I respond, my resolve a steel fortress around my heart.

Her protests rise like a tempest, but I stand firm, a lighthouse amidst her storm. “Yes, your husband will demand my head for this betrayal. But the scales of destiny weigh heavy, and in his protection, I find my purpose. Tell Ayiye a tale of treachery and loss. Let the world believe I'm a monster if it means safeguarding this precious life.”

With a heart heavy with impending loss, I convince myself of the necessity of my departure. Stealthily, I navigate through hidden passageways, the castle’s secrets my allies in this final act of defiance. Approaching the concealed exit, a sliver of light betrays the presence of others. “Reveal yourselves!” I command, the infant secure in one arm, my other hand ready with a dagger.

A voice, ethereal and mocking, whispers of magic unseen. “Your promises of safety are as fleeting as shadows, Malik. But we cannot permit your escape. You stand accused of heinous crimes, the murder of Ali Moa, Haj Shab, and Eli Jerr.”

As their numbers become clear, my resolve hardens. “Guilty, I am, of those sins, born of necessity, not malice. Stand aside, and live. Oppose me, and meet your end.”

With no time for further discourse, I unleash a tempest, my magic a fierce protector. The assailants are cast aside like leaves in a gale, their unconscious forms a testament to my resolve. Yet, as I step beyond the castle’s embrace, a dread unfathomable grips my soul.

I must ensure the prince's safety, my final vow. As I prepare the spell, his innocent gaze, dark as the night sky, meets mine. “This world, cruel and unforgiving, is not worthy of your light. May the spirits guide you to a haven unknown, where strength, wisdom, passion, love, and hate forge your destiny.”

With the incantation spoken, my life force ebbs away, a sacrifice to the arcane. The child radiates with an otherworldly glow, enveloped in a sphere of energy that begins to tear at the very fabric of his being. Despair grips me as darkness claims my sight. “No... It wasn't supposed to...”

The child, now adrift in a world that will challenge his every step, embarks on a journey fraught with peril and promise. He will know love and hatred, triumph and tribulation. His is the saga of Torie Quaye, etched in the annals of time as Torie the Dread, a legend born from the ashes of sacrifice.