The Blood of Our Deities

Chapter 1: From Darkness to Light

PS. I do not own any pictures used throughout this story.
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Blood. All over my person. Blood, not my own. A tall pale man, dressed in a black coat impaled through his head by my blade, he falls to the dark wood floor. His blood flows and weaves through the cracks, and crease's in the wood. Another man rather fat, leaves the room dressed in a red robe and I watch him run out in fear. I check outside the door to make sure he doesn't return. I'm out of breath, panting in uneven patterns. I can't let my guard down, I'm defensive, and determined. I sheath my sword onto my hip, feeling the weight onto my left side makes me feel comfortable again. When I don't have my sword in my hands I feel like I have no need to fight for my life and I can be calm once more for a little. At least until I need use for it again. I draw my attention to the chair with a black blanket, it's clearly covering something under it. The walls blazing hot, the heat and smoke of the room cause my cheeks to burn and my forehead to sweat. My face without question is dirty. Covered in dirt, dried blood and much, I'm sure. My eyes are tired, my muscles can barely carry my own weight. But i must push on, I don't have the option to lay down and die. The right to give up does not apply today, only the ability to press on. I will not die today. Not here not now, i must continue. I walk to the chair and pull back the blanket to find a girl. Her, Aleas with her dark eyes shut gently she looked to be in a deep sleep. I have long been looking forward to seeing her again but not like this. With the burning fire and chaos around the room, her look of calm slumber seemed to be the only semblance of peace around. The fair faced girl from the east. "Aleas" I call to her as I try to shake her awake but she doesn't respond. Running my thumb over her soft cheek I grow worried as I call once more. "Aleas" once again she doesn't respond. Is she alive? I put my ear to her lips. Yes, she's alive, barely, she doesn't choke on the fumes in the room. Something else must be the cause if this, no living person could sleep through this. I run my hand ever so gentally over her tired, tan face as I realise her slumber is not sleep, but a curse, and a strong one.

I quickly take her up wrapping her arms around my shoulders and holding onto her legs around my waist. She's light, and for some reason, comfortable against my back. She manages my name "Erin...". She remembers my name, she remembers! So there is hope. Her voice is soft and faint."Aleas, are you okay?" I ask, very nervous and worried, but she doesn't reply. I check the room again before I leave, the small room with tables, some with blood seemed to be on them. Not from the black cloaked man, but a struggle? From broken glass thrown across the room? The other tables had flasks with liquids of strange colours. The fire burning some had made the room smell of an odd, toxic stench. Broken concoctions, and equipment had been thrown across the ground off of the tables. Someone wanted whatever they were doing not to be found. "Aleas, are you awake?" I say to her, but she doesn't respond. The whole room caught in a raging inferno. It might cave in at any moment, I have to leave. I exit the room with Aleas with me. I hastily make my way down the winding stairs. Reaching the bottom and see the hall of this northern manor. Delthrime is the name of this place. This big wooden structure once a beautiful homestead for a jarl thought to have the power of the gods, next in line to be ruler by victory of the war, and rule the northern lands. But this beautiful home was a home of lies, murder, gluttony, and greed. The fire, consuming the building now crumbling it to ruins, and the manor had been brought to its knees and the walls would scream of the history they had truly seen. Watching my step for the men dead across the ground slain by fiends, thieves, cons. Many taken by a blade. Others burnt black, and to a crisp. But my only thoughts are on Aleas. She's unaware of the hell around us, and I'm glad she does not have to witness this fiery nightmare. I had seen men go crazy, and I know enough to know not to dwell on the tragedies of battle. Not just a mental struggle, but also the visually scarring sights. She is just a unlucky girl.