The Last Black Eye of Antigo Vale

6

Exhausted by the hellish day, Antigo climbed the rickety steps of his apartment. He only wanted sleep, but someone waited for him.

"Good evening, Brother," Shanda greeted as if they were close.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've come to give you one last chance. You can't fully understand what is offered to have sided so adamantly against us," she tsk-tsked.

Antigo grabbed a wooden club nearby. "Leave. Now."

"Remember the three powers of the prophecy, I know you didn't recieve our ancestor's strength," Shanda taunted with a smirk. "That's why I come to you without fear. Put that twig down before you injure yourself.

"I imagine that our poor dead brother had the power of spirit, the ability to rally the hearts of men. It's too bad our sibling perished so young. What good is strength of will, brother? What power is there in saying no? Why deprive yourself of blessings we offer so freely?"

Antigo's ears burned; he felt buzzing temptation deep within his mind. His inner lusts cried out for satisfaction.

"I'm family. Join me; let us conquer the world! This little town isn't the endgame." Shanda flipped up her eyepatch, revealing an obsidian orb where her eye should be; she was Skekstatsiis. Plucking it out, she placed the black sphere in his hand, "An eye is a small price to pay for unparalleled power."

Antigo dropped the stone inside his pocket. As Nimuk, he'd seen thousands of these stones littering the sloped altar of the Pranic Vampyre.

"When we finish here, we'll spread our influence across the land. These orbs will hatch into new gods themselves, each vying for supremacy. Our eldest of the ancients will lead the glorious pantheon of anarchy. You are integral to his plans."

Silent, Antigo remained devoted to his course. He stowed his own yearnings deep below the surface of his mind.

Shanda scowled. "Self-denial is no power; it's a curse."

"No! Cursed is your coven. Thirteen fallen dryads devoted to a deity of malice: you're condemned by the coming light!"

"Then your refusal is complete?" She stood. "I won't kill you, brother. My true family will do that. It will be their honor to kill the last son of the enemy." She slammed the door shut and disappeared into the night.

Antigo fell into his bed, hoping his life was just a bad dream. "No!" he vowed to his sister. "I am Antigo the Hero!"

* * *

Under the rising sun, Antigo met Bersham in the sloped, eastern illiac fields; they overlooked the Old Woods Gate. Once a solid brick threshold, it had become a relic of wrought-iron and stacked stone.

Cresting the hill, they straightened with surprise. Hundreds of townsfolk gathered in the purple fields below. Despite the assault, they'd still assembled to observe the last ceremony of the harvest season.

"The festival moved? They haven't held the final rite on the Precipice for decades." With so many people gathered nearby, entering the forest undetected will be difficult.

Bersham replied, "Perhaps you impacted the council after all... but returning to tradition is futile, now." She cinched Antigo's pack for him. "We'll have to sneak past them."

Master Grimms spoke this year, filling in for the late Master Jervis. The Elder stood atop the Precipice performing the rite, crushing the first harvested copse of illiac. Flick stood nearby under Grimms' employ.

Halfway to the border and knee-deep in flowers, the woods groaned with an otherworldly moan. A murder of crows screeched and took flight. The omen drew the eyes of many at the Precipice; thirteen indigo cloaks suddenly appeared at the trees edge.

The crowd's morbid curiosity drew the townsfolk near the trees to look at them. Spread widely, the shrouded Skekstatsiis stood still as perched gargoyles; they slowly drew their swords. The village army did likewise.

Antigo began his approach as a fourteenth purple-clad figure came forward with a blazing firebrand in her hand. Shanda pulled a hood back, revealing her face. She stood next to her coven leader, rigid spikes protruded from every angle of his violet form.

His otherworldly voice permeating the air with a thick, raspy tone, the Skekstatsiis leader spoke. "Today we break free from our prison-wood, overcome both stacked stone and cursed blood. Sick of this soul that makes us vomit, the oath has weakened; our approach is licit. Your souls are ours, so weak and frail! You! You let Antigo's blood run stale!"

The demon touched his torch to a fuse. Explosions rocked the ground, scattering dirt and debris in every direction; the blood smeared markers erupted at the field's edge. Townsfolk screamed, fleeing; shrieks pierced the air. The village warriors flew into action as Kale hollered an evacuation.

In the commotion, Bersham yanked on Antigo's arm. "Quickly! Into the forest! This is our chance."

Terrified, fleeing villagers ran amok. One family knocked Bersham to the dirt in their mad dash for escape. The old woman shouted to Antigo, "Go! Nimuk knew the way!"

He nodded to his mentor. Turning to the forest, Antigo spotted Franco cross blades with Shanda. She flipped up her eyepatch; the morning sunlight glinted off the obsidian orb lodged within her socket. Fully seized in Shanda's evil gaze, Franco shrieked and shriveled into a husk of loose skin and hair under her evil gaze.

Antigo fled. He heard Grimms' wailing in the distance."You promised my son would be spared!"