Simply Blinded

Ch.10: Awaken Enemies

Book One- Simply Blinded

Part 1

PROPHECY
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The undergroud tunnel was dark. It held a misty ambience and was indistinct to any one of the mortal eye. The night held a bitter chill and the old graveyard was surrounded by a shroud of fog and numerous headstones that dated back as far as before the nineteenth century.

The entrance of the tunnel was embedded by vines and roots that had grown overtime and the door of the mausoleum was colored a rusty davy's grey leaving parts of the empty concreted, cubical stone eroded with an irregular shape and figure.

The moon emitted a bright glow over the field of graves and it was past twelve O'clock. It was too late for anyone to not be confined in the security of their home. The wind whistled, leaving a slight whisper in the trees and leaves that swam in the air.

Tonight, however, wasn't just an ordinary night. Two hours beforehand, Arkan determinedly marched through the forest. The heaviness of his dark clad black boots crunching the leaves and twigs with his every stride.

The wind piercing through the black, hooded cloak that was draped upon his bulky frame. His strong jawline was locked into a grimace and his slinted red eyes pulsing with a hidden agenda and a strange sense of excitement.

The night had finally come after fourteen years of imprisonment and fourteen obsessive years of searching, Arkan had finally discovered what he'd been looking for.

Abyss. The impenetrable prison for supernatural creatures. Powerful supernatural creatures.

Although, Za'mira had been clever in hiding it's whereabouts, Arkan had stumbled upon a witch, who was once part of the Cyril Realm, and she had forseen that after nineteen years the prophecy was still set.

The witch had told Arkan that such forces were not to be tampered with, but he was tenacious and didn't take answers from someone other than his master. Plus, the rogue witch was like an open book. Without hesitation, she immediately told him of what happened all those years ago.

Arkan didn't know how she knew about the war, but she did. And for that he was much pleased; Za'mira should have known that such confinement wouldn't hold his master. His ruler. His creator.

It was only a matter of time before Arkan had found a way for his master to escape. And indeed he had found a way...

Standing in front of the entrance of the tall mauseloum, Arkan couldn't help the sense of eagerness that coursed through his body. The bubble of excitement in his stomach.

It was a feeling he couldn't exactly describe. With a malicious grin painted upon his dry lips, Arkan gently grabbed a red silky cloth that once sat in his cloak's inside pocket and unraveled it, revealing a thick clear tube...

Blood.

Taking a calloused hand, he blew and wiped the grime off the mauseloum, brushing upon the ancient letters of the old language that was neatly embedded, in a vertical riddle on the stone, concreted door.

Glancing around wearily, he crouched down toward the ground and parted the sea of angry weeds that flooded the entrance. He stepped onto a square, stone latch causing the enormous grave to open with a sharp hiss and a gust of ash to blow through the clean air.