The Ivory Star

Prologue

The Prophecy of The One

The One shall come when The Sun becomes Blood.

The One shall come riding but not riding a silver Dragon that is not a Dragon.

The One shall have The Ivory Star in his Breast.

And he shall free Mankind from The Ultimate Evil.

The dagger glinted in the dark fist, half-concealed in the sagging folds of the scarlet and black robes. The wickedly curved blade soared high, then fell. The man lashed upside down to the pillar spasmed, and gurgled his last breath through the deluge of blood pouring from the monstrous wound in his throat. The thing gleefully twirled the dagger in his claw, and a dry, terrible sound akin to laughter rattled from the black recesses of the hood.

He raised his rotting hand to lick away the blood with a long, black tongue, then plunged his other hand into the man's chest. Ribs snapped like twigs, and gore splashed upon the black floor as he tore the steaming heart from its home. He raised the dripping fruit into the hood, and devoured it in two massive bites, feeling strength surge through his withered limbs, then he stepped away to allow his servants to catch the crimson spring in their golden bowls. The two small men with eyes like empty glass rushed forward and held their bowls under the fount until the flow subsided.

A barely suppressed whimper to his left snagged the monster's attention. He turned toward the sound, and the woman tied upside down to another pillar. He towered above her, looking down into her hysterical eyes. Her body trembled like a leaf, and her mouth worked as if to scream, but the only sound that came forth was a choked gasp. He paused to touch her face with his thin, mouldering hand, admiring her creamy skin, the lithe firmness of her body, drawing her lush scent into his nostrils, savoring her. Ah, what a beauty she was! With great amusement he watched her nostrils flare and her throat constrict as his own stench struck her like a blow. She retched and coughed, her face flushed as the luscious blood pooled in her head, and her long, silken hair dangled toward the floor. Had he still been human, his desire for her would have been merely carnal, but he could hardly remember when there had been such a time. To him it seemed the constant hunger was how it had always been, a hunger more acute and profound than any depth of carnal lust.

He rose to his full height and tore back his hood, laughing as her throat opened up into a shriek of primal terror. For instant while the scream echoed in the large stone chamber, he savored her terror like the finest of wines, or the richest of bloods. He plunged the dagger between her heaving breasts, twisted and ripped. Blood gushed from her open mouth, and her eyes went dull.

Now the final element in his grisly feast. He concentrated for a moment, gathering his will. Then his ravenous essence reached out, seeking its prey.

* * *

The woman gazed down from far away. The pain was gone, but the fear remained, until she realized what had happened. She saw her body, and the inhumanly tall monster standing before it. She saw him wrench the dagger free, scattering her blood across the stone. For the first time in her life, she felt free, untouched by the yoke of slavery and oppression. The monster could not touch her anymore, and she was flooded with joy. She searched about for the essence of husband, but he was not to be found. The image of the accursed room darkened. Everything was sensation in this realm. But what was that? She listened carefully, with a perception that was not merely hearing, and heard her name being called as if from a chorus of a thousand distant voices. She wanted to be nearer, so she moved toward it. The passionate, joyous symphony of voices shone like a light in the gathering darkness, drawing her nearer, and listened for voices she knew, until one voice rose above the others. She instantly recognized her mother's voice, calling her, come toward the light, and she felt the love awaiting her there. She reached for the voices, to the blazing light.