The Hidden

Prologue: London, England-1714

Prologue: London, England-1714

Night cloaked the narrow, stone-paved alleyway that connected the main street with the town square.  The cloud engulfed sky rumbled over the enlightened town of London, sending tremors throughout the streets.

Everylight in the square was lit, and every bar was ignited with laughter and dance.  People were merrily drinking and guffawing.  Everyone danced to the sound of fiddles and laughed with joy.  Everyone except for the tall man standing out by the alley, standing quietly at the lively scene before him.

His graying brown hair was pulled back out of his face, tied back behind his neck. His face held a somewhat amused expression as he watched the wild, drunken party with his peppered silver eyes.  His downy peach lips smirked slyly as he saw men chase women around, the women squealing with glee as they ran.  His ink-black riding coat helped him to blend into the surrounding night.

Tiring of the drunken display he watched, the man turned away from the festivity in the square and towards the darkened alleyway.  He sauntered past darkened windows of closed stores and sleeping homes.

When he came upon a door with a white, eight-pointed star, he halted.  He glanced down either way of the alley before knocking tice on the door.  Then, he stepped back and waited.

Suddenly, a block of the door towards the top opened, revealing a small peek-hole.  A large gray eye appeared, staring observantly at the man.

"Name and realm," an old man's deep, croaky voice shot out from the other side of the door.

"Thomas Montegomery," the man answered, his voice revealing an unusual accent.  "Terra realm."

"Elvian, are you?" the old man questioned, hoarsely.  "What's your business?"

"I've come to see the hanging."

The old man's gray eye blinked, looking at the man outside in shock.  The peek-hole slammed shut.  Then, after hearing locks and boltsbeing undone and unlocked, the man Thomas watched as the large wooden door swung open, revealing the old man on the other side.

Thomas saw a man with more creases than years he lived.  HIs mouth revealed only a few teeth left inside, that were either black or dandelion yellow.  A few white hairs sprouted from the man's otherwise bald scalp.  The clothing he wore looked more like a giant gray rag.

"Hurry up!" the man barked.  Thomas slid inside quickly.

The inside looked larger than it did fromt he outside.  There was, what looked like, a smaller version of a grand arena.  Two rings of seats surrounded a large gallow, with two rope nooses ready on the post.

On a large stage behind the gallows were nine chairs, each with a different symbol above them.  The nine chairs were filled already with people.

The middle chair was on a slightly raised platform above the other throne-like chairs.  The man who sat there watched as people talked to each other, occasionally hearing a low chuckle or laugh.  His weary black eyes were fathomless, and chillingly cold.  His pale skin showed no wrinkles or any sign of aging, but just his very aura revealed the great number of years he had lived.  He neither smiled, nor frowned, but instead wore an impassive expression.  On him, he wore long black roves made from the softest satin.  His left hand lay resting in his lap while his right grasped a six-foot wooden staff which had a white glass sphere held in place by the staff's wood twisting around the sphere, connecting at the top.  He knocked the bottom of teh staff thrice on the floor, at a slow pace, standing.  The forming crowd of men and women, either sitting in the ring of seats or standing aside like Thomas Montgomery did, looked him, suddenly silenced.