Curseborn Saga - Fade to Black (2 page)

The Legend of EIEN

Black and White Flames . . . this is how it all began . . .

In the beginning there was nothing . . . or was there?

And of the beginnings . . . of which do we speak?

This is our story . . .

T
he truth is there was no true beginning. Beginnings have come and gone through the eons as all else does, curving along the eternal ring that binds Life and Death. But this isn’t the story of other beginnings, it is the story of our Beginning.

So it was that at the birth of the last Universe, Life and Death began their adventures through the blossoming stars and worlds, racing and soaring, bringing warmth to light and chill to dark. But in sadness lies truth, and all adventures must at one point come to an end. And so it was that all within the Universe came to fall, one by one, until only the Great Void remained, and thus, fatefully, it fell as well. So ended the majestic adventures of Life and Death, and together they came to be, weaving of sorrow and victory until at last, the two elements became One.

And as their auras merged a great orb of power came to be around them, burning with their imperishable flames, dancing of black and white in the center of silver nothingness, for space had not yet been tainted by shadow. And this Orb, in all its omnipotence and truth, was the Heart of All, the First and Last Sun, the Keeper of Time, and the Beginning, for only while Life and Death are One is Time captured. And thus, the last name of this Sun is EIEN, the Timeless.

In the empty silence danced the flames of new Beginning. And as they burned did Life and Death weave together, in harmony and discord, twining and twirling, and of them were born the Children of EIEN, the first of the Elements.

And into the form of crystals were the Elements shaped, glistening in unawakened radiance, pulsating with all the strength and beauty of those who had summoned them into existence. And bestowed upon them were their true names . . . Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Lightning; forever to be remembered, for they were soon to become the Soul of the Universe.

But in their shining greatness did Death become envious, and thus he craved them above all else. And so a dark coldness was stirred within the Heart of All, and with it was Life awakened, and in her perceiving of Death’s thoughts was her virtuous purpose born.

And so the flames of the First and Last Sun grew terrible and chaotic, and of it did two Wings rise high and mighty, shining of black and white. At the center of silver oblivion did the two Wings clash, furious and unrelenting, and all that was once quiet became engulfed in the chaos of their war. The Children of EIEN trembled in the fury of their clashing, until finally did the soft light of hope brighten beyond all memory, and thus was Life victorious. Out of the deepest core of the Sun were the Crystals freed, shooting as crying stars, and to the distant edges they sped, and so was born of the elements Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Lightning, the Soul of the Universe.

But in all his loathing did Death scream, violent and strifen, horrible and full of wrath, and so the One was broken and split, and a catastrophic explosion unleashed at their parting, greater than any other in all the Beginnings, for all that was quivered and quaked, and thus the cage of Time was shattered, and the Great Void was born anew.

And thus all was not as it once was, for the piercing hate of Death’s scream was so great that space was forever tainted with shadow. Yet flickers of Life sparkled brightly before the dark, and into the black Void they shot, glimmering as mementos of hope, and so these mementos became the First Stars of the Universe. The white and black flames were shed of the Sun, and into the Great Void did they spiral. The twisting flames came upon the Children of EIEN, awakening their thoughts and kindling their hearts, and so was born the First Worlds, and of these worlds, the First of the Gods.

And so did Time begin winding its path through the Universe, bringing an end to EIEN. The two Wings fell from the Sun, and the Heart of All lost its power, no longer flaming of Black and White, but fading to crimson orange.

Yet all was not over, or perhaps, not yet begun. As the White Wing fell softly from the burning Sun, a young girl came to be upon it, and she was Life, shimmering with all the beauty of the newborn stars, the worlds, and all within them. She gazed once upon these worlds before the White Wing curved around her body, glowing brighter and brighter as a great orb illuminating the dark. And thus was born the Goddess of Life and her world.

Far beyond the glowing world of Life did the Black Wing also fall from the Sun. And of it was born a God, dark and mighty and miserable, for he was shadowed by vengeance and overcome by hatred. Driven by this darkness he rose before the Sun, claiming in his tongue of power the eternal light as his own, for his crave was the devouring of all that shone. Yet he was without the strength of Life, for the two had been torn asunder, and so the flames of the crimson Sun overcame his voice, and so was the God of Death cast into the deepest depths of the God Realm.

So begins the story of our Universe, a tale of light and dark . . .

Sometime within the realm of past and future

Lies an adventure that will be told for all the ages to come,

And all will know its tale,

For this,

Is our story.

The Curseborn Saga

Novella I: FADE TO BLACK

CREATORS

TROWA D. CLOUD

SQUALL D. ACE

SIMON GATSU SANDOVAL

MARTEN D. SHANKS

WRITER

TROWA D. CLOUD

I – The World of Inner Depths

A
full yet broken moon shone an ardent blue glow over three silhouettes that stood beneath the tempest heavens like heroes rising to challenge. Meteors rained like arrows of fire, as if the distant stars had chosen to wage war on their planet, bringing calamitous explosions staining the sky blood red. The world was dying around them, its final hours a cataclysm. Yet the figures remained calm, floating upon levitated rock high above a realm of black ice. Past their faces the wind blew sharp and chill, as if winter had breezed its icy touch across the horizon.

Two of them stood side by side, their eyes locked on the undefeatable looming above them. Their opponent stood upon a floating island of ice and vine, rising before them as a God on a blackened perch. His ancient, omniscient eyes were lanced with open challenge. Upon his shoulders hung a faded black jacket that reached to his feet, billowing in the fierce wind along with his long black hair. Ominous black tattoos were woven across the entire
left
side of his body, from his hands to shoulders to chest, and all the way down to his feet. With a sudden
crack
, he thrust his oaken cane into the stone, unleashing a score of hidden white crows that took flight from beneath his levitating rock, fluttering and cawing as they rushed past the faces of the two figures, two boys.

“You’ve kept me waiting
,
” said the man before them. His voice was enough to chill the senses of even the most haled warrior. An overwhelming power, much like rays of the Sun, pulsed from his body. Yet the two boys did not cower. They merely met his gaze silently, hands clenched firmly on the hilts of their swords, anticipating and waiting for the moment that would bring their end … or beginning.

“Five hundred rings I’ve waited for this moment,” the dark figure said. “All your sacrifices, all of your own blood spilt—equivalent to a hundred Sorians, that it was! The hardening of your minds and bodies … all for this moment. I’ve weighed your resolve. You have come. I have seen. And you will die before my blade—if this dying world doesn’t take you first.
You two
have wasted my time long enough.”

The black-haired boy closed his eyes as if contemplating some difficult philosophical riddle; his face was young, calm and focused.

The other, with hair of silver starlight, spiking furiously in all directions, had eyes that shone blue and ferocious with the radiance of a full moon. His lips were set in a pleased smile, as if he had come upon that which he had sought for a lifetime. He was clad in a white vest that had gone gray over the years of so much dirt and fighting. It lay wide open in the middle, revealing the hardened body of a sword fighter, yet one who was still young in age. The tips of the vest feathered out to two sides, falling along his dark grey pants, which he had rolled up to the knees and fastened with straps. Upon his feet were merely old wooden sandals.

“Wasted your time?” he said. His grin widened. “Our entire lives have twisted towards this finale. This moment makes it all worth it. It’s about time we ended this, grandpa. Today, you will fall.” The battle-craving soul of the swordsman kindled strongly within his heart and his eyes flashed brightly as he turned to face his brother. “We will conquer this world and this old man with it … na, Storm?”

Eyes that shone like emerald sparked to life as Storm opened them. Exhilaration, ferocity and confidence resonated powerfully from a single glance. His pitch-black hair fell across his forehead perfectly, stretching just past his ears and nearly to the base of his neck. A faded silver neck chain clung tightly to his light skin; robed over his upper body was a tight dark sweater, with a white-lined hood that fell over his shoulders. The sleeves, each of which had one vertical zipper running straight up the wrist, were rolled rakishly up to his elbows, revealing a blackish bone armor known as Hollow.

Arcing across Storm’s hip was a sheathed katana, half the length of his body and curved downwards like the top of a setting sun. Taking a long, deep breath, Storm rested his hand on the katana’s woven white hilt. His resolve was set: His life was no longer in his hands, but poised before him—to lose or to keep. Behind him, a torrent of crimson clouds grew restless on the fading horizon, and jagged flashes of lightning crackled in and out of existence.

“Caim,” Storm said with a thin smile. “You never change. You think this is a game? This isn’t about fighting the strongest of the strong, but surpassing the limitations of oneself.” He grinned harder and clenched his fist. “But you got one thing right … someone
will
fall today, yet the felling will be by my blade alone.”

Caim exhaled and placed his hands on his hips. Sheathed horizontally to his back was a blade of ultimate contrast to his brother’s. It was shorter than Storm’s katana, yet much wider. It lay buried in a leather sheath with only a long black hilt revealed, extending outwards nearly the length of the blade itself. At the end of the hilt hung a tarnished silver chain with many thin links, similar to the one Storm wore around his neck, and shimmering as it reflected the glow of moonlight and lightning.

“You don’t understand anything,” Caim said. “You can’t beat him alone, don’t you get that by now? We’ve never beat him once. Not in the last 500 rings! It’s like you wish you could do everything on your own, even when you know we have to do this together. Where’s the fun in doing everything alone?”

Storm sighed, staring at Caim. All these years his brother had never cared for furthering himself, just living his life in the moment, merely reacting without any thought of consequences. He brushed aside a spike of irritation. Some things never changed.

In the distance, their grandfather’s vexed gaze pierced the sky like lightning. If the boy wanted to fight on his own, then all he would find was a solitary death. Maybe that’s what Storm wanted. Or maybe he was just an overconfident prodigy with an ego that needed shattering. He looked at Caim, who was clearly on edge about his brother’s selfish ambition.
Only as one can it be done
, he thought. The time was soon to come, and they still weren’t ready. And the price this time … was their lives.
There is nothing more I can do for them but take their lives.

A powerful breeze followed by the faint jingle of bells caught both of the brothers’ attention. It was a sound they knew all too well. They watched as two bells, one of white and one of black, hung from each side of their Grandfather’s sash.

Ronin spoke coldly. “I don’t understand how you can be so intelligent, yet never learn the simplest of life’s lessons, Storm!”

“I’ve learned enough for this, Ronin!” Storm answered. “Or should I say,
old man
.”

Ronin paused for a long moment before speaking. “Old man indeed, but one who is beyond you in every way nonetheless.” Storm grimaced and Ronin continued, “
Inner Depths
… the overcoming of one’s mental barriers, the subconscious locks of the mind that free the spirit, bringing forth complete control of all that lies within. This world around you crumbles, falls, and withers at the tips of my fingers. These two bells … they cannot be claimed by your hand alone. Have you not realized why you two have not overcome me for so long? You must learn, boy, that two individuals operating independently will never surpass the capabilities of together as one.”

“Just because this is the path
you
used to unlock mastery of Inner Depths doesn’t mean that that is the path everyone must fly,” Storm said. “My brother may be strong, but I will not feel gratified unless I can best you, the most powerful swordsman we have ever known, by my blade alone.” Caim shot Storm an angry look but said nothing.

“There’s nothing wrong with becoming strong for yourself!” cried Storm. A falling meteor screamed past the two of them.

Ronin looked down at the meteor as it exploded into the black ice of the world below. “Arrogant as usual, Storm. One day you will learn that there are more important things than your own ambition. Very well. The only way to surpass this challenge is to claim these two bells at the exact same time. With a hand on each at once, or they cannot be pulled free. You can circumvent the inevitable fate of this world, if you were only to shatter your own barriers first. I fear that you will never see, as I can now see. You will find no solace in attempting battle with one superior to you in every way—just folly, death, and a broken spirit as you drift into the clutch of one much more terrible than myself. It would seem your time of meeting
him
has come sooner than I would have hoped … a truly wasted blade you are.”

Storm’s eyes flashed. “It seems you have forgotten I have two hands of my own, old man.”

“Storm,” said Caim with sharp eyes, “if you think I’m going to just back down while you fight alone …” He paused. “Why do you always have to act like this? I thought we flew this path together.”

“You forget that paths have a tendency of splitting.”

“We’re doing this together whether you like it or not,” answered Caim, his voice rising.

“Try and I’ll cut you down myself,” Storm said.

“This is my battle, too!”

“No, neo … it’s not.”

Before Caim could answer Storm burst forward, cracking the stone at his feet and flying into the sky towards Ronin. Moving at speeds impossible to follow by the naked eye, Storm laid his left hand on his hilt, his eyes focused only on his target. He froze as Ronin vanished into thin air. Just like that. Gone.

Storm’s heartbeat accelerated and he switched to slow controlled breathing, focusing his senses on the aura, or the energy, of the world around him. He detected a sudden fiery heat from above and turned to face a falling meteorite that was now only feet away from his face. The burn was incredible and the brightness of it forced his eyes to a squint. He couldn’t move, and could feel the heat singeing away the tips of his hair into dry ash.

Caim stared up into the sky, screaming as the meteorite crashed straight into his brother. It seemed to have appeared out of thin air, a devastating trick. With only one move, Ronin had secured his victory. He knew that within this world, Ronin truly was its God. Suddenly the meteor shattered into countless specks of fiery dust. Caim could see Storm’s silhouetted body through the cloud of raining ash, and his blade shone brightly through the mist.

It was then that Ronin appeared, like a visage of death reincarnate, blade drawn from cane and descending on Storm’s unguarded neck.

“Storm, above you!” screamed Caim. His feet dug hard into the ground, cracking the entire island he stood upon as he burst into the sky towards the two. Even with the ability to Flash: a technique allowing one to travel long distances in the blink of an eye, Caim would not make it. His hand grasped tightly to the hilt of his sheathed Fallblade.

A clash of steel echoed across the sky like thunder. Storm’s arms were shaking as he broke Ronin’s surprise attack and crossed blades with the Grandmaster of Swordplay.

“Oh?” said Ronin with a grin. “It seems you
have
learned something!”

“I’ve learned a lot more than that!”

Storm unlocked his blade, unleashing a fury of slashes; the final attack broke nothing but air, and Storm vanished in pursuit. Their clashes boomed thunderously across the sky as they disappeared and reappeared in different places, each time breaking their reunion with a powerful crackling of crossings. Caim came to a stop in the sky, unable to follow their accelerated movements. His eyes simply could not keep up. A sudden falling meteor made him dodge swiftly, and Caim looked down to the black ice where the falling star struck, bringing forth a deathly inferno and the rapid melting of the world’s surface.

Definitely not going down there
, he thought.

Caim looked back to his brother. To any normal Sorian the fight would seem equally matched, but Caim knew better. No matter how confident or skilled Storm was, it was only a matter of time until their grandfather stopped toying with him.

“You need my help, Storm …” he said. “I know you know that.” He looked to the battle in the sky.

Storm ducked a heavy slash from Ronin, feeling strands of his hair lost forever, and Flashed away in a temporary retreat. Sheathing his katana, he steadied himself in the air as Ronin dashed head on, leaving a wake of wind. Storm took a deep breath and clicked out his blade with his thumb. Bright green flames of energy seeped forth from his body as if he were set aflame.

“Lunar Rising
!
”
he shouted, and his blade flashed with silver refulgence.

Ronin’s eyes narrowed as the glare temporarily blinded him. A surge of elation rushed through Storm’s body and mind—it was only a matter of milliseconds before he would seize his victory. The two bells jingled, as if beckoning him to come.

“Too bad you’re not working together,” Ronin said. “Might as well be fighting each other.” Then his grandfather vanished.

Storm froze as his blade crashed with another, and his eyes grew dark when he realized it was Caim’s blade he had struck. He cursed Ronin’s escape and Caim’s interference. Pushing forward and laying his second hand on the bottom of the hilt, Storm sent Caim hurtling backwards through the air.