This is the first draft of my story. Inspiration for it came from my own research in certain real life mythos, aswell as recent manga and anime I’ve read. Constructive comments are always welcome. Be warned, it is fairly long.

The room is cold, dark, dank and musty, the only source of light coming from a small spluttering candle on the desk. The man sitting behind the desk wears a thick woollen habit, at one time it had been white, however over the years it had turned a greyish colour, and had become misshapen. Around his neck he wears a gold chain at the end of which hangs an amulet depicting the God Marduk. Around his head, holding his thick white hair away from his eyes is a gold circlet, in the centre of which is yet another, smaller symbol. No one remembers what the symbol means anymore, but all of the priests wear them.

The only sound coming out of the dark is the hurried scratch of quill on parchment, briefly interjected by silence as the man collects his thoughts, or renews the ink on the nib in the ink well to his right. During one such pause, he re-reads what he has written…

Towards the end of the Gods War, Tiamat the Dragon Goddess was slain in combat by the God Marduk. Marduk having completed the task set by the other Gods gained the reward they had promised, and was given dominance over all the remaining Gods.

The legend states that Marduk used the remains of the Goddess, that he had slain, as well as that of her consort, Kingu; to form this world of Tharin’sar. Her bones were used to make women; the blood of Kingu was used to create the seas. Knowing that women are not to be trusted as guardians of this new world, Marduk took two of his lower ribs, and created two men. The first he placed in the temple and gave dominance of all things religious, the second he entrusted with armor and sword and placed in command of his heavenly army. To both he commanded that they should secure and guard this world against the women created from Tiamat. For while they are innocent, they contain her foulness, and in time it would always surface. Thus man was given dominance over Tharin’sar.

However, in other versions of the story, man was fighting alongside the gods in this war. There are also hints to an entire nation devoted to the Goddess Tiamat, lead by a Queen, with a highly matriarchal stylised government. This contradicts with the teaching of my own Temple, which teaches that women were created for the sole purpose of serving man.

While travelling to one of the older Temples close to the Forlorn Lands, I happened across a ruin, since it was late and I would not be able to reach the temple, I decided to spend the night there. It was inside this ruin that I found a series of books written in an odd archaic language. Using the skills I learnt in the Temple, and my not so insignificant skills as a master translator and linguist, I’ve been able to translate some parts of these. The books alone would cause a stir in the Conclave, as all our books these days are parchments tied together. These are actually bound with protective covers, something we lost the knowledge of after the God War.

The first book seems to be nothing more than a child’s story book, the stories it contains are short and highly rhetorical. However, inside the cover was written a small inscription: “To my darling Daughter on her 7th name day, may these stories open your mind to the possibilities of the world, and guide you to the future.” It ends with an odd word I’ve yet to decipher, but given the ‘daughter’, I’m guessing it means either father or mother, or a derivative.

The second, and one that will most likely lead to me burning for heresy, is a religious text. It’s by far the thickest of all the books and contains many religious writings, rituals and prayers. Though translating it is time consuming, since it’s written in the Dark Tongue, the contents are showing a different story to what I have learnt.

The third, a journal written by the owner of the books, and seems to cover a period of about two years, their calendar is different to ours, so it’s hard to match the two together.

The fourth, and most unusual, is a military text. Again it’s taking time to translate, but so far I am finding some shocking similarities between this text and the texts given to the young officer cadets. In truth they could be mirror copies of each other, except for the focus shift.

I must confess that as a Priest, I am interested more in the religious texts, and have been focusing more on this. During my novitiate I learnt that Tiamat was a demonic goddess that rebelled against the other gods and started the war. Marduk who was one of the younger gods was offered dominance over all gods so long as he could end the war. When the war finally ended with the death of Tiamat, several other Gods refused to accept his dominance and tried to overthrow him. They were however swiftly silenced and imprisoned as punishment.

However this religious text, says something entirely different. It talks of a loving Goddess who did not like the path that some of the other Gods were taking. Her consort murdered by Marduk, and thus caused the war. Growing tired with the war, and the loss it was causing her followers, she cast of her mortal shell and returned to the heavens. However before she left she gathered together what remained of her followers and carried them to Cari’el Hasar, (despite my efforts I have yet to successfully translate this name into the Common Tongue) which is now called the Forlorn Lands, and set up her own nation. When she finally departed Tiamat infused into the Queen a portion of her powers, saying it would be her guide in the darkness to come…

There are many other elements of this text that are confusing as I do not speak the language fully yet. However a number of questions have been raised in my mind, some of which undermine the very foundations of my beliefs.

The man pauses in his reading, places the Quill in its holder and rises stretching, “study should carry a health hazard.” Chuckling to himself he leans over to extinguish the candle, briefly his face is shown clearly. No more than thirty years old, his hair is thick and long, the circlet keeping it from covering his face. At one time he would have been considered handsome; however his face is ‘pudgy’ showing that he eats too much in the way of sweet meats and drinks too much wine.

A noise outside catches his attention and he moves to the window looking out, at first nothing appears amiss and is just about to move to his bed when the glint of moon light on steel catches his eye. Watching from the shadows he sees some thirty shapes coming through the gate, a sudden sense of danger washes over him; as the shapes move past the guard house one of them enters the light, “Royal Guards…..here……why?” Muttering to himself he edges further back into the shadows and watches. The Captain of the Temple Knights moves from the guard house and talks with one of the Guards, then points almost directly to him. The danger that was swamping over him changes to a cold chill that sets him shivering.

“Impossible, how can they be here for me, they can’t know about the books…can they” Looking around his sparse room he weighs his options…”They can’t know of my studies…but then I have been in the Royal Archives a lot, looking into the older texts. Damn, they’re probably suspicious because of that and want to question me.” Looking out the window again he just catches the Guards leaving and heading for the main doors of the Temple. To get to him would take ten minutes, probably a bit longer since it requires coming up two very narrow spiral staircases. In a daze he moves to the table and looks at the parchment he’d been writing on, “Damn…I can’t be caught ’till I know the truth…” Gathering up the parchment some ten pages of writing, he moves to the fire. It was starting to burn out, but flares up after the first page is thrown on.

A few minutes later he is moving down one of the older stairways, hidden behind portrait on the floor below his room. Very few even with the Order know of this stairway, or of the passage it connects to, as only the older priests have residence up in the towers. At the moment, he is alone in this tower.

When the guards enter his room some fifteen minutes later they find nothing there but the half burnt pages of parchment. However, those remains and the writing they contain are enough to start the hunt for him.

Meanwhile Ma’Shen leaves the monastery by using the hidden passageways, and moves out into the night. He stops by a small abandoned cottage a few miles from the monastery and picks up the things he’d prepared only a few days ago. Supplies he hoped he would never have to use including a set of normal travelling clothes, his robes, despite their shabbiness, stand out to much. A small pouch of coins that had taken him many months to save, a tattered back pack bought from one of the guards, and his treasures; the books in their own waterproofed and protective bag.

Packing everything into the back pack he sets off on his journey, heading east towards the Forlorn Lands, only there will his questions find the answers he desires, and only there will he find the time he needs to decipher the texts.

The next morning the Criers begin shouting their message, “Ma’Shen of the Temple of Marduk has been found guilty of heresy and treason after being caught trying to commune with the Demon Queen. He has been stripped of his rank, status, and executed at sunrise. His corpse burnt in a purification fire until nothing remained.

Meanwhile six men set out from the monastery, their job to find and kill Ma’Shen, recover anything he’s carrying and return them to the High Priest. These men are Wraiths, zealots of the faith who will do anything the High Priest orders them, without thought or question…However they are also something else, something not quite mortal.

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Jaden leaned back against the stone and wraped her arms around her knees, watching as the sun slowly set. The golden red light makes the land around her look as though it’s been drenched in golden blood.

At one point she would have been considered beautiful, however something had scoured the beauty from her, leaving only a ghost behind. Her eyes are a strange shimmering of blues, one minute light and clear, the next dark and clouded. Tall for a women, and well built, with signs of both battle and training scars on her face. The most noticeable being a scar that appears from behind her right ear, and ends at the corner of her mouth. Her vermilion coloured hair seems to shimmer in the sunset, tied into a warriors top knot, so as not to hinder her in battle.

Leaning her head back against the cold stone, Jaden closed her eyes and smiled, a smile full of bitterness, anger, sadness and hate. “You always loved sunsets, didn’t you? I’ve never liked them much, since I don’t like the dark. But watching you gaze at the sun always made me happy.” Absently she pushes her fringe from her eyes, and looks back out over the land. “This place used to have a beautiful view though didn’t it, we’d stand here and gaze over Ra’sar. Just before the sun would set the light would reflect of the countless roofs and make the land look like it was covered in diamonds.”

Closing her eyes again, the tears flow, ignoring them she climbs to her feet turning her back on the view and looks down at the stone she’d been resting against. Placing a hand on it, she stroked it, caressing it lightly, lovingly. “Yet in the end, even you betrayed me, the only person in this world I loved, and trusted. I would have done anything for you if you asked,” chuckling bitterly, her voice breaks, the anger, love and pain mixing together causing her voice to become raspy and horse.”If you asked for the moon I’d of found a way to get it for you.” Clenching her fist, she punches the top of the stone, blood splatters the stone. “Yet you betrayed me, turned against me, even fought against me. In the end I killed you, but that wasn’t enough for you was it,” Her voice hardened in anger and suppressed emotions, she ground her fist into the top of the stone, numb to the pain and the blood now spreading. “You forced me to fight you, drew it into a life or death fight and then, at the last second, dropped your blade. I couldn’t stop…” Once again her eyes closed, the tears roll down her face in torrents, “I couldn’t stop, even now I still feel what it was like as my blade cut through your armor and ended your life. I still hear your voice as you said those words as you died.” The tears drip from her chin and splash on the stone mingling with the blood from her knuckles.

Lifting her face up, she rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her face, though seemingly not aware of it. Kneeling down she picks up the sword at her feet, ignoring the pain from her knuckles. “You recognise this don’t you, it was your sword. Ever since that day I’ve only ever used this one. Took me a while to get used to it, since it’s longer and lighter than mine, but I’ve grown accustomed to it now.” Drawing the sword, she holds it up examining the blade. “It’s a one of kind, I remember when you had it commissioned, you gave the weapon smith nightmares because of your demands.” Jaden examines the blade stunned as always by the cold beauty it holds. The blade, barely half a fingers breadth wide, and despite being hollow, immensely strong, due to it being crafted from Sacred Silver. The guard is small, barely able to be considered a guard; the hilt is twice as long as normal, allowing it to be used two handed with ease. Running through the core of the blade is what makes the sword so hard to master, liquid Sacred Silver. The liquid adds power to the sword, but makes it harder to control.

“I’ve been using this sword for five years now, but, it’s time for me to give it up. I’m tired of all the fighting, the running. I’m tired, so very tired.” A strange emotion creeps into her voice now, a tiredness that goes beyond normal fatigue. A tiredness of the spirit. Looking up the immense blade, some seven spans long, Jaden nimbly leaps into the air, spins the blade downwards and as she lands drives it deep into the stone. The sound rings across the mountain side, sparks fly as the sword crinds into the stone. Rising to her feet she looks at the blade, over four spans of which are now embedded in the stone. Kissing the tips of her fingers she touches the stone, “For five years I’ve come here on this day to watch a sunrise with you, but this is the last. I’ll never be back again, so please forgive me. It’s time for me to die. I never thought anything could be worse than killing you, but living on without you, knowing i killed you, is more than i can stand.” Turning she strides from the stone, without looking back.

A few short moments later after Jaden has left; a ripple appears next to the stone, light streams out revealing writing on the stone:

Herein lies Selen Soulsinger, beloved of Jaden Nel’kin and daughter of the House of Tsuren; killed in the battle of Longharth. May she find rest within the embrace of the Goddess.

From the light two forms appear, one moves to the stone and touches the sword hilt with their finger tips, then the still wet blood. The other form moves to the side of the first, “You could catch her if you went now.” His voice is soft, soothing, almost like that of a child. Yet it’s full of steel and conviction. The other turns and looks in the direction Jaden has just left by, “No, she’s not ready yet. Not only would it be against her orders, if I was to appear in front of her now the damage…well, you heard her. The wounds I dealt her are deep, and will need time to heal before they can be bared open again.” The woman, for the voice is definitely that of a woman, touches the sword again, then places both hands on the top of the hilt and gently pushes. The blade grinds down again, sparks flying as it’s pushed deeper into the stone. However as the hilt and guard touch the stone, it ripples and soon nothing remains of the blade.

“I’m glad she dropped the name Nel’kin though, that at least, I hope; is a sign she’s reconciling her past. Though I’m not so sure the name she uses now is any better.” Sighing she turns to the man, “Come, we need to report back  that the sword is sealed. Though one day nothing will be able to stop the seal from breaking, the day she calls for it. When that happens, i doubt anyone, God, Dragon, or Demon will be able to prevent its unsealing.” Turning briefly she looks in the direction Jaden left by, “I’m always near you Jay, even though you don’t realise it. When the day comes that you do realise it I’ll tell you everything. I promise.” Ignoring the man, she heads back into the light and disappears. The man waits, and then turns to look at the path Jaden had walked up. “Greldome” His voice is softer than usual, but carries even more authority and steel. A voice comes from nowhere, older than time, soft, lyrical and beautiful. “You called for me Apsu.”

“Follow Jaden, keep me informed of anything that happens. However you are not to interfere for any reason.” Greldome’s voice changes, becoming firm and resilient, “I will protect her at MY discretion…” Apsu cuts her off, “You will do as my Consort commands, or will you go against your own mother?” there’s silence, and Apsu carries on, “All will be made clear in time, yes much lies on her shoulders; but she must find the end herself. If we give her the answers the result will be meaningless. You remember the last time? The price we paid for that mistake was dear.” For a few heart beats there’s nothing but silence, then softly and growing fainter as though the person speaking is moving away, comes the reply. “Very well”

Sighing, Apsu turns and moves into the light, muttering to himself “She says that, but she won’t stay silent if it becomes too dangerous, Grel never could master keeping her nose out of trouble. Much rides on that child, to much for one so young.” Moving into the light it fades behind him, nothing remains to say anyone had been there, except for the now drying blood on the headstone, as the sun finally rises over the plateau bathing it in the golden sun of a new day.