The Everflowing Chalice

Chapter 1

The forest grew ever outward, crushing towns and uprooting cities. There was no stopping it. Fell beasts came forth in the night to feast on those who ventured too close to the forest. There was no stopping it. The very forest was alive with the old magic of the world. Magic long forgotten by memory and blood. Magic that threatened to strangle the very world it helped create. There was no stopping it.

Some said that the expansion of the Dark Forest at the heart of Egaelia was no more than a natural phenomenon that would cease in time. Others said it wasn't happening at all. But a darkness was stirring in the land. The world was changing, and it cared not whether humans adapted or suffered by its hand.

The crying goddess in her grove, her tears fall to the world below,

Until the day a prince shall rise, to put an end to flowing eyes.

A prince born from the cursed line, that brought the wrath of the divine,

And he shall one day rule the land, when gods no longer forsake man.

***

Adrian stood tall, letting out deep gasps of breath. The air he breathed never seemed so thick as in this moment. His specially crafted armor, dented and heavily marked by tooth and claw, had never felt so heavy. He could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears and his shaking knees threatened to buckle at any moment, but he dared not waver. He gripped his blood-drenched bastard sword in both hands and brandished it at his foe.

The great wolf, with black fur that almost seemed to wisp away like smoke against the moonlit night, bared its fangs and howled, sending a shiver down the human's spine despite the warm summer air. It locked eyes with Adrian and waited for a brief moment before leaping forward into a charge. The creature bore down on its prey, running faster and faster with every stride, its red eyes glinting in the pale light. When it was within a few feet of its target it sprang forward in a mighty leap, jaw opened wide to deliver a terrible bite.

It was over in an instant. Just as the wolf was within reach, Adrian mustered his last ounce of strength and swung down at his foe. A spray of crimson covered his armor as he connected with the wolf's neck, biting deep into fur and flesh until steel was lodged in bone. The force of the blow knocked Adrian off his feet and ripped the sword free from his grasp. Man and wolf hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

A moment passed and Adrian pushed himself onto his feet as the wolf lay convulsing, blood pouring from a deep wound in its neck. He didn't bother to pick up his sword. He doubted he'd even be able to wrench it free from the wolf's neck at the moment, but the night was still, surrounding him with the dread silence of loss.

The lifeless bodies of townspeople were strewn about the village in bloody heaps. The few of them who had picked up farming tools and old, rusted weapons had fought valiantly and given their lives to protect their home, but only he survived the attack. Those who had elected to flee had not fared any better, having been swiftly run down by the strange, savage creatures before they could get beyond the perimeter of the village.

The beasts had come from the forest less than a mile from the village, a section of the Dark Forest at the heart of the small island nation said to be filled with all manner of monsters: wolves with pitch black fur that moved without a sound, boars with tusks sharper than spears and harder than steel, and savage crow-like birds that swarmed their victims one by one, tearing at flesh with beak and talon alike. They were unlike anything Adrian had ever seen, and though he had heard tales of the creatures, this was his first time seeing them and their savagery up close. It was as if they were lifted from one of the old stories he had heard as a child to scare him off of sneaking out after dark, only he was the hero sent to save the day, and only he survived.

Looking at the bloody carnage, he realized a funeral pyre had to be built. Adrian did not know these people or their customs, but with no one to consult, he felt the best course of action was to give these people an honorable ceremony granted to the warriors of his homeland to carry them into the afterlife. Though his muscles screamed with the effort and begged him to rest, he worked tirelessly, gathering wood and oil from the village's now broken buildings and prepared as good a pyre as he could manage.

There had been twenty-two people living in the village, and he worked tirelessly into the morning, dragging every one of them to the pyre and laying them as best he could within the hastily-made structure. He had long since discarded his armor and weapons to lighten his load, he was plastered in sweat and he knew his body was reaching its limit. By the time the dead were neatly arranged upon the pyre, the sun was already casting its light upon the land. He took time to study each of the townspeople's faces in the light of day. The oldest was a man who looked to be in his eighties, and the youngest a girl who had not even reached her teenage years. He whispered a few prayers over the bodies as he poured what remained of the oil atop them, until he came across the twenty-third corpse.

He knelt down before the boy with sandy brown hair and a youthful face that reminded Adrian of when he was his age only a few years before. He held the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips and placed them upon the boy's forehead and bowed his head, "Rest your eyes, my squire, for your valiant deeds tonight shall be echoed in me. May Plesi guide you safely to Hestith as reward for your bravery and your service to your prince." He hoped his prayer to the ferryman would not fall upon deaf ears, despite the prophets and historians telling him the gods were done with the race of man. His squire had died in service to Adrian and his charge and deserved a place in the Halls of Heroes.

The preparations done, Adrian lit a torch with some flint and walked around the pyre igniting it at four points as he whispered prayers for the nameless people he had met only a few hours before as he and his squire sought a place to rest. The fire quickly sprung into life, and Adrian walked back, watching the inferno overtake the bodies.

His body on the verge of collapsing, he slumped against a tree. Birds chirped nearby and a light breeze passed through, staving away the thick, summer air. Such serenity following such carnage. The gods, if they were still watching, truly had a cruel since of irony. Adrian, his body unable to keep itself awake any longer, fell asleep as the warm glow of the pyre and the smell of death enveloped him.