Mirror Of The Forgotten Gods

Prologue

Prologue

The red eyed man, cloaked in darkness, looked down at the weeping child. "You can't kill a God!" The blue eyed, brown haired boy said as he stood frozen in place. His mouth stayed agape as he watched the man crouch down in the pool of blood that began to color the fountain a bright red. The man eyed the boy pointedly as tears flowed from his face covering his cheeks.

The child had been standing behind the God when they fell. Blood now splattered across the small frail elvish boys face as he blinked tearfully at the man. Tears began to well in the boys face as he cowered before the man.

In the fountain the body of the god lay still, its blood rushing into the water. It was a shame to waste such good blood. The man watched the crimson red blood of the onyx haired god seep into the fountain discoloring the water. Onlookers watched in horror as the body lay in the water motionless. The white fountain began to spit bloodied water from above and rain down on the man as her stood in the fountain.

"Well, most people won't be able to kill one." The black haired man with red flecked black eyes held the heart of the god firmly in his right hand. He could smell the sweet blood as he ached for its taste. The heart still beat in his hand. Water gushed from the fountain overhead spearing his face in a thin mixture of water and blood. His clothes began to become soaked in it. He licked his lips tasting the blood of the god. It was a thrill to hold her heart in his hands. He pulled free his ebony great sword and rinsed it in the fountain.

He held the heart to the sky and the crowd before him. "The god slayer has come." He told them.

He laughed maniacally at the gods. He would have them all if she would let him. The crowd stood in awestruck silence. He looked the child in his eyes and shook the heart at him staring venomously. The child burst into waves of tears and stumbled backwards screaming. A woman grabbed him round his waist and pulled him away from the scene. Once transfixed by the man, the throng began to break out into a run.

This is what they had done, he thought. It was all their fault.

The man ripped his teeth into the quivering heart and began to suck free the blood. The Gods blood ran down the mans jaw as he drew out its contents. The true power of the God who lay before him having just drained into his own body and soon hers. He thought of Haven, of her blonde hair... She reminded him so much of the god who lay dead at his feet. He would find her next.

The hot blood entered his mouth. He thought of what she did to him. How could she have done that to him? He lamented. The scent of her filled his nose, the smell of fresh moss, and smoke from a fire pit, crisp river water, and something else he could never put his finger on.

He would have her soon enough.

"Look at what I do for you!" The man shouted to the heavens above him. The sky filled with angry dark clouds. The man let the heart slip from his hands tossing it forward towards the throng of people.

It fell forward rolling to a stop at an elvish woman's foot. The heart was now dried of blood. It began to rupture and crack into pieces. Slowly— it disintegrated to dust at the foot of the child. An arrow flew through the air landing beside his foot. He looked up at the archers who knocked arrows back from a palace tower above him.

The wind picked up the heart debris and thunder roiled around them as it did. The heart now entered the wind like the Wishing God once had. The powdery dust was picked up in a swirl around the fountain, it faded into the air, and became one again with the world around it.

The onlookers parted way for the man as he took one foot from the fountain. An arrow flew towards him. He glared at it swatting it from the air before it could land in his shoulder. "Where did he come from?" He heard one woman ask, "It was as if he appeared out of thin air." Shrill screams of terror broke out in the crowd. Some ran and others only stood motionless in fear. Their cries pierced his ears as he moved forward into the throng of people and towards the small army which now approached him. He smiled, part of him enjoying that people feared him. He loved the taste of blood, and battle. 

"Come home now pet." He could hear her say.

The black ebony great sword he had just removed from the Gods body now dragged behind him dripping with the gods blood and water. He lifted it with both hands and holstered it on his back. "Yes." He spoke to her. "Soon. But them first." He smiled as he closed the distance between he and the fifteen or so men.

The Wishing God was dead. For a moment, he wondered if the god had known her fate all along. The threads of fate were unspooling before their very eyes.

In the distance, a voice beckoned to the Essence of the Wishing God, "Come back." It pleaded.