Arcane

Prologue

PROLOGUE

EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO

Somewhere in the depths of the winding corridors, a large canine slumbered, sending grumbles and occasional barks ricoching off the stone of the walls and floors. Gale's breathing faltered once the noises had suddenly stopped.

There was a pause.

Then, the rapid clicking of claws against the ground drawing ever closer and closer to his hiding place. His mind raced, his hold on logic slowly giving way to immense panic and fear as flashes of the nights events rushed through his mind.

A low growl came from the other side of the wooden door and Gale's heart pounded against his ribcage, threatening to break free. The moving shadow became still as the dog honed in on the intruder. A bead of sweat rolled down Gale's nose and plopped onto the floor, sending his pursuer into a frenzy of barking and scratching through the door.

Dismayed at the volume of the commotion, Gale sat on the cold floor in defeat, sure that the disturbance would alert the entire kingdom, buried his face in his hands and cried. He stayed that way for what seemed like forever, waiting to be mauled by the guard dog, expecting to be exiled, executed or worse.

Looking up to face his fate, he realized that the hall was silent and as if summoned by Gale's thoughts, King Ciaran himself stood staring him down.

--

The screeching of wood against worn brick rung in Gale's ears, he tried not to react, to appear unbreakable, yet furrowed his eyebrows and scowled nonetheless. The screeching stopped and a huge hulk of a man slumped down on the other side of the large oak table that Gale was shackled to. There was a fresh, deep red gash down the left side of his face that oozed scarlet plasma into his unkempt, white streaked beard. He smiled wickedly at Gale as he sat, showing off missing teeth.

He was an awful sight to behold, but Gale was in worse shape. Tattered and burnt fabric hung loosely from his gangly form, letting the chill of the room bite at his skin. Bruises and blood colored his face and limbs, one of his eyes half closed and swollen.

The other man grunted, shifted in his chair and grunted again. There was a slight glint in his eye that Gale almost didn't catch due to the dim lighting. He leaned his grimy, sun weathered face in closer to Gale's to where he could smell the heavy alcohol off the man's breath.

"What're ya most 'fraid of?"

Gale's vision was plagued with ghost images of flames, destruction and death. The screams of his village - of his family - rung nonstop in his ears.

But most of all, he remembered the darkness.

"Losing my family, ser." The truth was too strange for him process. He knew there was something he was terrified of, but just like half of his memories, there was nothing but darkness. The same darkness that destroyed his life and his family.

He'd watched them die. He'd watched them all die and he didn't even feel an ounce of remorse. Whatever happened to him that night had changed him somehow, this was the only thing he knew for certain.

"Lies'll only add to the mount'n of trouble you're in, boy."

"Now talk, you look like a lad with a story."

--- attached cover by @sanctified