Deep within the mountains of Deria, far from the dwelling place of mortals, where the sun cannot shine his brilliance, there was a stirring in the air. Something evil and darker than the darkest of nights was moving with growing restlessness. The atmosphere was filled with so much anger and hatred; and to contain them was almost impossible.
But Mezcua knew they had to be controlled. They cannot risk to act carelessly now. He had to remind himself of this, most especially the others whose abhorrence were growing stronger with every minute that they were imprisoned within the hateful island. They have waited for so long and now that an opportunity is being laid upon them, they would not in any way misuse it.
The heir of Davian is coming. No, he's already here. His ship would soon dock on the island. The foolish mortals, without a thought about what might be the consequences of their actions, would only need to spill his precious blood and Mezcua and all his followers would be free.
Mezcua was filled with pleasure and anticipation. He was successful in stirring the hearts of the dwellers of Deria. He filled them with terror at the unusual sight; using their own ignorance against them so the people would attack Davian's descendant and kill him.
Mezcua breathed a heavy sigh. Their time has come. The Crimson Moon showed herself once more after hundreds of years. The Cursed has been born. The only thing they need was for Davian's Heir, The Marked One, pours his blood on the island. Once the heir's blood has been spilled, they will be liberated and the gods that imprisoned them would pay dearly for their deed. Those treacherous, terrible, and hateful gods – Mezcua never forgot about them. For thousands of years that they were imprisoned, they never forgot, even once, the offence Ambrosius and the others committed against them.
The universe was once their realm. It was them who created the heavens. They owned everything that lies in it. Until Ambrosius defied them openly, defeated them, and locked them in Deria. Since then they have sworn to be revenged. For thousands of years they have fed on their anger, and now it is time. No sooner than later will the every living thing taste their fury. First on the creatures the gods first created, the Elder Beings, and then they would unleash their fury on mortals; creatures most beloved by the gods. They would destroy the world and design it according to their desire before turning their eyes on the gods and their leader, the arch-sinner himself, Ambrosius. They would destroy everything!
They would be free, as long as The Marked One spills his blood on the island. His vengeance will soon be complete – so long until he finds the Cursed.
He watched with delight as the ship grew closer to the island.
The sun had not yet shone his radiance on Earth as Prince Theodore Ashton of Ashcania woke up from his slumber. He had an eccentric dream. It bothered him far worse than anything he had ever worried about.
Theodore saw a woman. She was quite tall in stature with long auburn hair, deep cerulean eyes, round face, and a fair complexion. The woman was heavenly alluring. Yet this bewitching countenance was not the reason of the prince's consternation.
A black bird was sitting on the right shoulder of the woman. She wielded a sword covered in so much blood that no blade was seen. He could not make out most of the surroundings; the only distinct structure he could see was the tower where the woman was.
She was standing on the steps of the Tower of Birinda; her auburn hair dancing with the wind. He could read no emotion in her eyes as she looked towards the sky. He remembered following her gaze and saw a large ball of fire falling rapidly from the sky. It was followed by another, and another, until it seemed that all the stars seen during the night are all falling down to Earth. Great flames swept through everything the fire balls touch; leaving everything on fire and covered in thick smoke.
Before he roused from his sleep, he remembered seeing his half-brother Alexander appear behind the woman.
Abruptly, a soft deep voice startled him from his thoughts. "Your Grace, we are approaching a nearby island. I suggest we stop by and gather our supplies. We don't have enough food to last for another week due to the couple of storms we have encountered." It was Meynard. He was the son of his father's most trusted friend. Theodore's father, King Ramil of Ashcania, requested (though for Theodore it looked more of his behest) Meynard to accompany the prince throughout his journey. Since the kingdom was built, it had been a tradition among the Royal House of Ashcania that every heir apparent must cross the seven seas before being crowned as king. Theodore, as the eldest son, was first in line for the throne.
Theodore stood up and faced the man who was patiently waiting for his orders, "Get our men ready to land. See to it that we get everything we need."
"And if the island is inhabited?"
"We'll see what will welcome us. They might be kind hosts to worn out seafarers or warriors ruthless against strangers. Take precautions." He motioned for him to leave his cabin. Meynard lowered his head and turned around to leave. Theodore stared into nothing. He was troubled by his vision. He saw Birinda, the capital of Ashcania, being destroyed to ashes. Throughout his life Theodore only cared about the prosperity and security of his kingdom. He dreamed of it to become the most powerful kingdom all over the continent. His father always burdened him of the great pride it will bring to them and their forefathers. To see Ashcania burn down to ashes was the least of the circumstances he would want to witness.
Theodore pondered for a while before he dressed himself and climbed onto the main deck of the ship. As he walked by, every men on board lowered their heads and gave a slight bow as reverence to the prince. It was compulsory among the citizens of every kingdom that one must bow their heads as a sign of deep respect – but the prince viewed it from a different angle.
Theodore always admired the idea of being highly respected; predominantly because of his royal title that for him is most venerable. It was his outlook that the disparity between the powerful and the pauperized should be greatly defined. He believed in the philosophy that everything that was created is not equal; an ideology that every person belonging to high ranking families believe in.
When he reached the main deck, Theodore saw the island Meynard was talking about. Unlike most of the islands he saw during his travel, this island was perhaps the largest one he ever beheld - though he was only seeing it from afar. It was mountainous ones with gorgeous and fertile lands. It was not rocky or barren but filled with lush green trees and with a tropical climate. The sky was filled with puffy clouds that touched the mountains and birds flew over them. Dawn was over and the sun had already risen.
Every man on board was thrilled with the mesmerizing view. Theodore was thrilled too, until he felt something was amiss. Beautiful as it was, Theodore felt something peculiar and eerie that resides within the island. He felt cold creeps all over his body just by looking closely at the magnificent view. Theodore looked over to his men. They were all standing still; bewitched by the breath-taking scenery as they stared at it.
"That island might be the home to vicious creatures that prey on mindless, foolish men who could do nothing but to enrapture like a child. Be on your guard! We do not know if the island is inhabited. Prepare your weapons and get the boats ready!" Theodore shouted at the men who jolted at his call. The men scattered around to heed is command. He turned his head to look at Meynard whose head was bowed down in embarrassment.
"Where'd you get these men again?"
"They were personally selected by the king, Your Grace. They came from noble families all over the continent."
"I guess my father brought with me inexperienced and naïve men, don't you agree?" Theodore mocked, "As if their birth were yesterday. Prepare to land."
Meynard obeyed. Theodore did nothing but watch as his men hurriedly prepared everything of the essence.
"Draw your swords." Theodore ordered his men as they approached the island.
"But Your Highness," one of them said, "it might alarm the natives of this island. They might think we are invaders and attack."
Theodore faced the man angrily and said, "I don't recall ever asking for your opinion. Draw your swords." He repeated.
"I believe he's right, Your Grace." Meynard intervened, "It is – "
The prince cut him off, "Am I master here or you?" The men lowered their heads and refused to meet the prince's eyes, "If you wish to go against my commandments, then you are free to leave my ship. Stay here in this isolated island you find so pleasing or swim back to Ashcania if you wish but I will not care. Draw your swords. Now."
Meynard and the others had no other choice but to accede to Theodore's demands. They know, as they were warned, not to go against him in this voyage. It is already common knowledge throughout the whole kingdom how ill-tempered the future king is. He once allegedly threw a fit against the palace guards after he accused them of not barricading the palace properly. No one knows what his grounds were because the king was quick to hide conceal any information about the incident. But it was said that the prince mentally tormented them by decapitating their horses in front of them as punishment. It was frightful ordeal.
Meynard stepped off first. He looked around for any signs of attack or threat. He was fully armed and alert, but what welcomed him was empty vastness. There were no signs of human civilization anywhere – no houses, chimney smoke, or even footprints. Meynard motioned for the others to come closer.
"I don't think it's inhabited," he said, "but you may now step off the boat but stand guard."
The men quickly got off and beached the boat. They observed their surroundings. The birds are busy singing their songs to signal the start of a new day and the wind blew gently over them. The island seems so peaceful. When they walked towards the trees, they placed their swords back to their scabbards.
But it proved nothing but an act of sheer folly. No sooner had they stepped after drawing back their swords, hundreds arrows were already flying towards them. The men were quickly seized by sudden panic that they were not able to move fast. The arrows found their mark. One of them was shot in the leg, the other in the arm.
Meynard was the first to come to his senses. He drew his sword and stationed himself in front of Prince Theodore. The others followed his lead. Meynard swiftly cut the arrows that were flying towards them. He moved so swiftly that it was difficult for Theodore to catch up with his movements.
Because all his comrades were already too preoccupied in protecting him, Theodore took the chance to focus on his surroundings. He brought his gaze up where the arrows were coming from. The arrows were coming from within the forest, but they were not less than 100 yards away from where Theodore and his men were standing.
A sudden wave of realization dawned upon him. Then he felt a pang of shame and guilt. He did not want to admit the possibility that the natives might only be waiting for a sign that they were intruders; and they were heavily armed. Theodore felt ashamed of his comrades. But then remembered his mother's words: "Powerful people such as us should never possess any form of mortifications. They exist only to the weak."
The thought comforted Theodore. His mother was right. If, indeed, they were attacked because of his misjudgement, his men have sworn to protect him.
"Once they cease firing arrows at us, kill them all." He ordered.
"Your Grace," said Meynard whose eyes were still fixed towards the seemingly everlasting attacks"I don't think it's wise to engage our men in battle. These natives surely know how to fight. Our men are tired and hungry. We will put our lives in danger if we oppose them."
"What do you suggest we do? Beg for mercy?"
"Exactly, Your Grace. We have to negotiate with them. We cannot afford to retreat. Our supplies won't last longer than a few days and we might not spot another island in such time."
"Very well. Do what you think is best."
Meynard was surprised that the prince acknowledged his opinion. He was known to discord most of the people's views. Regardless, their survival is his immediate concern, but to convince the natives that they were not enemies was the vexed question. The natives saw them armed and ready to fight. How will he tell them the contrary?
In an instant, the attack halted. No sound was to be heard from both sides. Theodore and his men stood still, for any form of despicable movement could lead to their demise. They were all breathing heavily, except for Theodore who all throughout the attack did nothing but stare and hide behind their back.
At last the natives appeared. Their appearances were no different than the locals of Ashcania. They were tall in stature, fair, thin nasal aperture and small mouth; although their clothing was exotic. They wore colourfully woven clothes with intricate beadwork. Theodore also noticed that they also had female warriors, a peculiarity that Ashcania's neighbouring kingdom, Carpitha, was also famous for.
"Who are you?" the man in front said. His demeanor was giving Theodore the idea that he was either the tribal chief or a high ranking general, although he doubted the latter. The man, whoever he was, pointed his sharp, double-edged sword against them. Amidst all the occurrences around them, Theodore noticed the queer swords they were wielding.
"We are travellers who came from a faraway land across the sea. We do not wish to cause or inflict any harm," Meynard said, "We are your suppliants, and we humbly ask you give us shelter."
The natives looked at each other, and then turned their eyes to the man who spoke earlier. His eyebrows were furrowed as he studied the strangers warily. He shifted his eyes at their swords that they were still holding. Though sceptical, Meynard threw his sword on the ground and gestured for the others to do the same. Theodore almost immediately tried to protest, but Meynard gave him a meaningful look and he knew had to comply.
The 'chief' sighed and whispered something to his comrades. The prince and the others were worried that they might kill them on the spot, but soon after the natives lowered their weapons and walked towards them.
The natives tied their hands together and took away all their weapons. They led them towards the woods as the natives surrounded them. They went deeper and deeper within the woods until they saw in the distance several, quaint wooden houses. As soon as they reached the village the people began to whisper and stared at them perplexedly.
"They look like they haven't seen anyone they don't know on their lives." Theodore noted.
"I'm not surprised. This is an extremely distant island; the first one we've seen after crossing all seven seas." Meynard replied, scrutinizing the people and everything around him.
"So I noticed. Look at their swords."
Meynard complied and took a closer look at their swords. They were dull-gold in color. They were not longer than a hundred centimetre in length but were not shorter than 80. It took him a moment to recognize them.
"They're carrying bronze swords." He said, more of a statement than a question. "But bronze-made weapons have long been abolished all over the continent. How can they still have it?"
"We shall have our answers soon enough. For now, let us focus on how to leave this place in one piece." Theodore answered. The 'chief' entered the largest house among the village. He noticed that all of them are stilt houses with at least two steps. A native motioned for them to follow.
When they entered, it was not the exotic interior design of the house that caught Theodore's attention at once. It was the lady who was sitting at the edge, staring plainly at him with those familiar cerulean eyes. She looked exactly like the woman he saw in his vision.