Reign of Darkness (Prologue, Chapter One)

Prologue: Powers

Long ago, the land was peaceful. It had been for many, many years. The trees had been a bright green color, with apples growing on them. Birds had loved the trees, and deer and coyotes and many other animals had thrived in the lush forests that covered the land. The villages had never fought amongst themselves, nor sought a battle with other villages. Indeed, it had been a time of giving, a time of peace. But like all peace, it didn't last very long.

The Destroyer came long ago, and took over the land, silently forming his army to attack and kill anyone that crossed him. Should they not submit to him, they would be killed in a torturous fashion, for the Destroyer loved to torture his victims, though they were helpless and posed no threat to him. It was a favorite past time of his, and it cause for great fear and hatred to spread across the land. Indeed, it caused for armies to be brought up to fight back. They, unfortunately, didn't last long. They were either killed in battle, or taken prisoner. Prisoners of the Destroyer lived only as long as he saw fit. If he got bored with tormenting them, he would have them killed immediately, or sent to one of his followers to torture until they were done with them. To be captured was a fate worse than death.

The powers were brought to the lands long ago by some unknown force. The Destroyer was one who had the power of darkness. All together, there were eight legendary powers. Darkness, Fire, Light, Air, Ice, Water, Earth, and Thunder. Their names were the Destroyer, the Incinerator, the Shiner, the Blower, the Freezer, the Drencher, the Grounder, and the Striker. Those who had powers and were with the Rebellion fought for freedom from the Destroyer. Those who followed the Destroyer fought to destroy all who opposed him. In one final, bloody battle, it seemed that the entire rebellion was destroyed.

The Rebellion had all but been destroyed, though. Many sought refuge in the forests, or in the mountains. They hid underground, licking their wounds, training, somehow praying for a miracle. Without the help of the Chosen Ones, they hadn't a chance. The Destroyer was far too powerful, and they knew they could not beat him without getting killed first.

Now, they hope for a miracle.

Chapter One: The Incinerator

The boy ran his hand along the arm of the wooden swing he was currently resting upon. The swing was old, probably older than himself. He was a mere seventeen-years-old himself, and he knew that the swing was much older. Sighing, he allowed his mahogany colored eyes to scan the distance. The fields, full of corn, seemed to go on forever. Beyong the corn fields, he could see the setting sun as it exploded with color. Colors raced across the evening sky, seemingly battling for control. He smiled to himself, feeling somewhat relaxed as he watched it. He'd always loved watching the sun set, ever since he was young. Now, he leaned back in the swing and began moving his feet, pushing the swing back to start it. He rushed forward slowly, and closed his eyes as he felt the breeze rush past his face. Yes, he was relaxed now. He yawned then, and suddenly felt exhausted. No wonder, either. He'd been up all night, working at his job. He'd pulled an all-nighter, and hadn't slept yet, even though he'd been home for hours. He shook his head and got to his feet, somehow torn. He wanted (no, he needed) to sleep, but at the same time he didn't want to, didn't need to. He gazed the distance again. The sun was almost gone, only a fraction of it still visible and giving off light and color. The sky was turning a dull blackish-blue color, and it no longer interested him. He was too used to the night, and didn't need, didn't want, to see more of it.

Sighing, he turned on his heel and walked down the porch to the door to the house. He turned the door knob and pushed the door open. Upon entering the room, he kicked his shoes off and walked down a narrow hallway into the kitchen, ignoring the stairs off to the side. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and began to guzzle it with loud, rapid motions. Wow, he'd never been so thirsty in his life, and he couldn't figure out why. Even so, he chugged, and before he knew it, the water was gone, the bottle empty. He sighed and casually tossed the bottle into the trash can off to the side, next to a counter. Exiting the kitchen, he slunk up the stairs with a tired yawn and moved sleepily down the hall. He opened the door to his room and entered, closing it behind him. He slouched toward his bed and slumped onto it, sighing in content as he did so. He felt so tired...his eyelids felt like anvils, and his body was begging him to go to sleep. He finally gave into his body's pleas, and closed his eyes, the lights still off in his room, the sky darkening rapidly outside. Soon, he drifted off to sleep.

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He awoke hours later, a chill seeping in through his cracked window. He shivered slightly and sat up, rabbing at his eyes as he did so. Yawning, he gazed around his room, his eyes landing on the window. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and quietly moved toward the window, where he went to close it, when he heard a sudden scream outside. Frowning, he paused for a moment, and then opened his window enough to poke his head out into the chilly night air. Squinting, he looked around, looking for the source of the scream. He didn't see anything, but he knew, somehow, that something was out there. A feeling in his bones told him that something was coming, and it wasn't coming to make friends. With a sigh of annoyance, he stuck his head back through the window into his room, and slammed the window down, locking it. With narrowed eyes, he left his room and migrated toward the bathroom, where he then proceeded to relieve himself. Finished, he washed his hands and exited the room, slinking down the stairs. He moved toward the door and slipped his shoes on, and then reached over to a small table near the door. Grabbing a small hand blade, he stuck it on his belt. With yet another sigh, he opened the door, feeling the cold night air surround him. He froze in his place as soon as he opened the door, coming face to face with a tall, cloaked figure. The figure probably stood at about six-foot-two, and was dressed in a black cloak and hood. Silencing his breaths, he could only stare at the figure, his hand subconsciously moving toward his blade. "Who...Who are you?" he questioned in a shaky voice, and then mentally cursed himself for showing that he was in the least bit frightened. "What are you doing here?"

The figure merely laughed and shoved him inside, slamming him against the far wall. Eyes wide, he watched the figure as a knife was placed to his throat. "Jirasaki Akira, right?"

Akira frowned for a moment. "No...I'm Saki," he said casually, and moved to slink away. The figure gripped him tightly, holding him in place.

"You're Akira," said the figure, and Akira could hear the smirk in his voice. "I know who you are; you can't lie to me. Do so again, and I'll be forced to dispose of you." the figure sounded completely serious, and Akira found himself gulping.

He struggled for a second, saying, "What do you want with me?" his voice sounded strange, oddly soft and quiet. He took in a breath and said, his voice slightly stronger and more authoritive, "I don't know you. What do you want?" he narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The figure laughed and pushed the knife a little more into his throat. Freezing, Akira remained quiet, his heart racing around wildy in his chest. "Who I am is unimportant. What I want is clear." the tone of voice made chills run throughtout Akira's body. "What I want, young Jirasaki, is you. I want to see you dead." there was more than a bit of malign in the figure's voice. "I want to bathe in your blood once your life is through."

Akira gulped, trying to stay calm and collected. "Why? What...What have I ever done to you?" he heard himself whisper. "I don't even know you!" he shoved the figure back, only barely avoiding the knife as it slashed at his throat. He turned on his heel and bolted out of the house, off of the porch and through the yard. Running, he never once looked back. He could hear the figure growling as it chased after him, and he picked up his speed, desperately trying to get away. Who was this figure? Why were they covered up in a cloak and hood? And why did they want him dead?

He sighed. Today really wasn't his day.