Hollow Sun

The Prologue

The pool mirrored the night sky like a slick oil spill, the starlight causing the inky liquid to gleam as it sloshed at the edge of the lake. The scene around was a massacre; men and women of all shapes and sizes were all turned into indescribable lumps with no apparent features by the darkness of the night.

It was a shame it could not hide the metallic scent of blood.

Brannel's golden helmet hid his weeping, as he picked up the bodies of his friends, their blank gazes and gaping mouths fueling his anguish. He closed their eyes when the other soldiers were not watching, stroked their hair, his careful hands sheathed in heavy gloves. However it was not enough to forgive his role in this. The soldiers he were with were young and injured, the ones who had barely witnessed battle but still wore its scars. Their eyes were not tormented, their minds not fragmented, but they were jittery and skittish like colts. They would be of no use in a real battle- and so they were here, cleaning up afterwards. Placing the bodies of the Mhyrrian people on a pyre to be burnt so their deity could never find them.

The other soldiers went about their duties with shaking hands and little decorum. Brannel could not watch much more, but he would stay until they lit the fire. The fools would probably set themselves aflame if he did not supervise. Not that it mattered- the general would order them all dead anyway. It was not a battle they were cleaning up after: it was a slaughter. And anyone who knew the Ra did not battle justly had to disappear. And Brannel would disappear, but not in the way he suspected the others would.

As the last body piled on Brannel watched the footsoldiers manually light the fire. With a flick of his hand the entire pile would be burning, and he pitied the labour they had to go through for such a simple thing, but he would not blow his cover. "I'll check inside one more time." He called out to them, nodding towards the building. They didn't even look his way, chattering amongst themselves.

He trod through the grass towards the stone building the Mhyrrians had fled from. It was blackened from burning- the general must have set it alight to force them out. It was cruel, barbaric, but nobody would ever know. Singed grass turned to dust beneath his feet and the intertwining scents of ash and burning flesh assaulted his nostrils. The doors were open when he arrived, but he waited before entering. It had been a holy place. A temple for the refugees to hide in. The room had once been swathed in bright colours, crystals and wind chimes that swayed in the breeze. Rugs of all shapes and sizes had covered the stone flooring and prayers had reverberated throughout the room. Now everything was dust. He climbed downstairs to the basement, and lit a flame in his hand as a torch. "Hello? Is anyone there?" his voice echoed without answer. The room was empty. He moved to the back of the room, finding the large chest he was looking for. He broke a sweat lugging it out of the way, groaning at the weight. Underneath was a narrow trap door. He stripped his armour off, dropping it through the hole first before clambering down.

The cave was lit with bright silver light that illuminated from the stalagmites hanging above his head. Brannel was ankle deep in clear water, his shoes soaked through. His brow furrowed. He was supposed to meet her here. Her and the baby were supposed to be here. He took cautious steps through the tunnel, before he saw her. He rushed towards his bride, heart pounding. She lay face down in the water, raven hair like seaweed, eyes like pearls. Her skin was like night, charcoal and ashen, and the silver whorls painted on her skin were flaking away. She was gone. His recognition of it shattered him, and he held her soaked body to him, teeth chattering as his tears mixed with freshwater. She was gone. He could never have saved her, and he loathed himself for it. Where was her precious goddess now? Where was his? Lives were given and taken in their names, and for what? Sobs wracked his body.

He gently laid her frail body back into the water. He could not lug her back through the caves. He needed to find their child, their legacy, and whoever had continued on with them would be too far ahead for him to catch up with. He kissed his love on the forehead, one last time.

He moved to stand, and exclaimed in surprise when he was pushed down by a boot to his back. "We caught up to you this time Brannel. You've always been sentimental." The snide voice of a viper. He would recognise that smugness anywhere.

"Karkuhn-" his face was immersed in water, head hitting the solid rock of the cave.

"I go by General Karkuhn now, but you know that. Now get up, and show us out of this awful cave. We have much to discuss."

He stood, knees weak, and turned to face the general. Behind him stood four of his acolytes in their hooded robes, flames in hand. He had no choice, it seemed. He would go with them, but slowly. They could not catch up to the escape team. He hoped to meet his child someday, but if The General did not kill him then he would be left to rot in a cell somewhere. He prayed- to the two deities who had given him love and power in equal measures. He prayed to Mhyrra for freedom, and a light in the darkness. He prayed to Sekhun for strength, for ferocity and flame. And to both of them he prayed for the safety of his child- for they belonged to both.

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Hi guys, it's Once here!

The idea has been planted in my head for quite a while but only when I started writing things down did it truly start to grow.

I'm hoping this will be an enjoyable experience for both the writer and the reader, and I'm also hoping it will improve my writing skills, as with school and exams I haven't had much time to read anymore.

I'm really excited and I hope you guys like the prologue, and can't wait for the next chapter!
Thanks for reading and please remember to upvote,
love Once ❤️