The Travellers

Overlord Rises

Edward stood in a small clearing, far from any town, or any person. At his feet, a set of crumbling stairs lead into the damp earth. He turned at a sound behind him, there stood his horse, chomping at the grass, the shadows were there too; dancing around the clearing, darkening the light and whispering of danger. Edward dived down the stair, the only hope now was to reach whatever thing of power was hidden there. Only power would save him.

He dashed blindly through a maze, not caring which way he turned, the shadows biting at his heels. Hidden traps went snicker snack within the walls yet nothing stopped the growing danger. Fear tingled through every nerve, he ran until he came to a hall, dull with dust and remnants of fabric upon the walls. There an object lay upon a stone table, not a speck of dust had settled upon its dark grey surface. The rough shape of a sceptre, it was unassuming, yet power lurked below the surface.

As he stood there he could feel them arriving, he turned around knowing that he would see the shadows weaving ever closer. His fear told him that his only hope was to reach the scepter first. He sprinted across the room, hand outstretched toward that which would save him from the dreadful fate that the shadows had in store for him.

As if in slow motion his fingers closed around the scepter and power, raw and unrefined pored through his body. The shadows paused, weaving in the air, then one by one they bowed before him knowing that the power had him. They begged and promised allegiance as Edward turned to face what he had before feared.

With a smile Edward twisted them into shapes that pleased him, "Why fear what is now mine to control?" he asked himself.

With a command, the Overlord led the way out of the hall into the greying day. With the power held within the scepter he would rule. He would rule over it all and bring to this land wonders like it had never seen before.

In the heart of the forest, hope died as a breeze swept away the scent of spring.