Immortali

Prologue

London, 1855.

The man hurried down the shadowy street, his coat flapping in the crisp, night air. His feet splashed through puddles, and, for a moment, he wondered if it would soon snow. It was certainly cold enough, but the cold didn't bother him. It was the least of his worries. He rounded a corner and stopped running. Before him was an alley. There was nothing special about it; the walls were made of bricks, the cobblestones were bare and wet from the rain that had fallen that day. Torn pieces of newspaper were littered here and there, occasionally rustling in the wind.

To the human eye, it was just a place that was best avoided at night, for those who had common sense. They wouldn't even bother to look at the dark shape lurking in the left corner. It barely moved, acting like a shadow. A normal person wouldn't even notice it, but the man was far from normal. He looked right at the dark shape and nodded his head.

"Good evening, Arriana," he said politely. For a moment, the shape remained still. Then it moved, pulling away the illusion it had wrapped itself in like a blanket. Now, in the dark shape's place stood a woman dressed in a regal red dress. Her dark brown hair was pinned up in a tight bun, whilst her pale skin almost glowed in the dark. Neither of these characteristics were what marked her as 'unusual' though. That secret lay within her eyes, which were bright yellow.

"And to you, Alrick," Arriana replied. There was a slight accent to her words, but most people wouldn't have been able to pick what it was. Her yellow eyes seemed to glow more than her pale skin. "Were you followed?" she asked, her voice hushed. She looked behind him, but saw nothing. Alrick shook his head.

"Not that I know of. But we may not have much time, do you have it?" Alrick asked. Arriana nodded. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small, glass ball. To anyone else, it would have looked like a perfume bottle, but if they looked a little closer, they would notice that the dark substance inside the bottle wasn't perfume. In fact, it wasn't even water. Instead, the dark substance swirled around in the glass like smoke. It writhed and twisted, as if it were trying to escape. Alrick's eyes settled on the bottle. Dark memories flashed at the back of his mind. Memories of war and death; of hatred and destruction so absolute, that a former paradise had been reduced to ashes.

"Where will you hide it? The tombs in Egypt are no longer safe. Archaeologists have found the treasures hidden there long ago. If they find-ˮ

"They won't find it. We made sure of that. Only an Immortali can open it, and even then, they wouldn't have this," Alrick explains, pointing to the bottle. Arriana scowls at him. As much as she trusted Alrick, she didn't believe that The Lost would rest for eternity. She knew that someday, the horrors of the past would come back to haunt them, and, unfortunately, she knew she'd probably be there to see it.

"Be that as it may, where will you hide it?" she asked again, much firmer this time. Alrick sighed solemnly.

"There is a place in Paris that I believe you're quite familiar with, yes?" Alrick inquired, with a raised eyebrow. Arriana continued to give him a sour look. Finally, she rolled her eyes.

"The Catacombs. Yes, of course I know about them, I was there when they built them," Arriana reminded him. Alrick's lips turned up in what could be called a smile.

"I know you were. Unfortunately, while you were in France, I was busy helping the Greeks-"

"Ah, yes. The mighty 'Zeus'. We can't forget that, now can we?" Arriana mocked him. Now it was Alrick's turn to scowl.

"I was called Odin in Scandinavia, and Jupiter in Rome," Alrick added. Arriana shook her head.

"I will never forgive you for helping the Romans. They invaded Gaul!" she accused. Alrick shrugged.