Grendilton: Rise of the Shadows

★Prologue★

Time shall not be contained, death will never be controlled, and life cannot be conjured.

It was a dark flustering summer morning and Castlefront never looked so dreary in all its lifetime. The city of pure elvish stone was the focal point of Amberguard — 'The Beacon of Light' as the sages and mages of this world loved to call it.

All across the outskirts of the bustling city, the flowers would create a multitude of colours to pop across the stark white walls. The sparkly river beds that ran through the city would always glimmer when the sun was at its highest point, creating this crystal-like shine all across the rocky metal metropolis.

The fisherman that lived in the city spent their days attempting to get the largest catch, exchanging tales of their adventures as a summoner or a dragoon. Once they had their catch, they retreated to Stormvein — the marketplace of all of Castlefront, where they would exchange their goods for more goods with other masteries.

Farmers from the Far East would bring large baskets of fruits and veggies and the local bakers would set down crates of loaves of bread that were cooked that very day, creating an enticing aroma to bask in the wind.

Children played without a care in the world, running down every alleyway, creating small pops of magical energy along the cobblestone path, dreaming about how their future would be and what kinda sage or mage they would grow up to be.

To Balthazar Heslington, head Paladin and leader of Castlefront city, such a calming thought was nothing but a frail dream. His beautiful home now a merciful battleground, bleakly stained with the blood of both allies and enemies.

His body shook in pain. He was covered in dirt and the crimson blood of the creatures he had slain and his own that trickled down his face. His vision was blurred as he attempted to look at the desolated land before him, trembling in fear of the darkness that was bordering on the horizon.

"I can't give up."

The hand along the hilt of his lancet quivered and his teeth couldn't help but clench tightly against one another despite the agony it created. He panted and winced then looked over his shoulder, looking down at his comrades that sheepishly rose off the ground.

"We can't give up my lord."

Charchet Stratious stumbled to his feet, rearranging the chain mail that dangled across his now dirt-covered armour. He picked up the daggers that laid along with the dirt, summoning a gust of wind to his aid which lifted more blood-stained blades off the ground. He grimaced and spat blood from his mouth. "They shall never take our home," he yelled towards Balthazar as the pair of them watched in the distance their comrade rise to their feet.

"Charchet is right," murmured Tessera Camprion, who limped over to the two burly men, raising her hands which then created a soothing light to surround them and healed them of all their wounds.

She swiped her hair away from her face, dusting off the dirt from her tunics before letting out a long sigh of both relief and sadness.

"We are Amberguardes last hope."

Tessera then stood by Balthazar, lowering her hand down to his own. "I shall stand by your side," she whispered. "Because I know, as you have shown us many times before, you will lead us into the promised lands."

But Balthazar didn't think he could, pressing his lips against one another while looking downcast, feeling the impending darkness growing closer by the second.