The Story of Vocus - Part 1

Part 1

When I was first told by the sages that I was destined to be a Guardian, I wasn’t sure what that meant. I had heard stories of the Guardians, how they were the ones who protected the individual worlds. They were the only mortals who could cross the threshold into Elysia, the afterlife; they were servants to the gods gifted with great power. I was 20 years old and married when the sages came to me. They told me that I was the reincarnation of the Guardian for my world. They pulled me away from my wife and son so that I could train and learn the archaic art of energy manipulation and combat. It was five years before I was able to come back to my family. Five long years before I was able to hold my wife in my arms or see my son again, but the gods were not so kind to me. I came home to an empty house; my village had been raided by cultists of a distant colony. They took many of our women and children; my wife and son were among them. I was furious; I felt nothing but hatred for the cultists who raided our village and even more for the gods who made sure I was not here to protect my family, but I kept my faith. With the powers the gods bestowed to me I sought out to find this colony and rescue my family. I gathered information from around my village and from any village I passed on where to find these cultists. It took me three weeks to finally track them down. Their village sat at the base of a cliff side that circled them in; the only way in was through a narrow passage in the stone at the northern end. I came in from the east and decided to wait until nightfall, at the top of the cliff, to strike. My greatest struggle as Guardian was waiting in restraint at the top of that cliff, while the sounds of women screaming in pain rang through the valley as the cultists performed sacrificial rituals on them; not knowing if my wife was one of them. It felt like weeks had passed before the sun finally set and darkness swallowed that village like an unholy plague. I had waited patiently, but anger was all I could feel; rage became me. I worked my way quietly down the cliff side at the eastern edge of the village. There was a large campfire at its heart, where it seemed the entire colony had gathered; there must have been 30 cultists circled around that campfire. At the southern end of the village I noticed another fire where a few lone cultists were burning the remains of their victims. I was a new found Guardian, but I was still unfamiliar with my powers, so I decided to handle the stragglers first. I worked my way back to the southern end, weaving my way quietly between the tents, and after arriving there, I leaned around one of the tents to get a better look. Four cultists were tossing bodies into a fire while one watched over them. I maneuvered around to the tent behind the cultist supervising to quietly take him out. I clasped his mouth with my hand and ran one of my blades through the center of his back. I heard the bones in his spine crack and fracture as he let out a painful moan into my hand. There was brief moment of struggle before my blade slid through his intestines and out of his chest, then the man went limp and only my blade and hand held him up. I had never killed a man before that day, but I had no remorse. I dragged the body behind the tent and unsheathed my other blade. I was determined to kill every single one of them to find my family. I see the other four cultists continuing to carry bodies and toss them into the flame. I slowly edge my way around the tent waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Then I see them carry out my wife. The sight of her mangled corpse brought me to my knees. My wife, the love of my life, was butchered like an animal. I let out a painful scream and charged out from behind the tent. With a few harsh sweeps of my swords, I had beheaded all four of them. Their bodies drop to the ground as their heads roll around, spewing blood from the open wounds. I collapse next to my wife in tears as I hold her in my arms one last time. Lacerations ran the extent of her body and they had removed her breasts and intestines. Her face was bruised and damaged. I sat there with her in my arms, rocking back and forth crying. I couldn’t feel anything except for hatred and sorrow; I was completely distraught. I laid my wife’s body down and picked up my blades. I turned towards the campfire with a burning passion to desecrate that colony and purge the land of their filth. I could feel my anger pulsing inside of me like it was trying to escape. I looked down at my arms to see a strange aura around them, almost like a delay in the movements between my physical self and the blue aura that surrounded me. I stopped to examine the phenomenon, but when my movement ceased, so did the strange sensation. I moved my right arm and with a small delay the apparition followed as if my spirit and body had been disconnected and were moving as two separate entities. In my five years of training, I learned how to bind my spirit and body together. They told me that Guardians were able to cross into the afterlife because we were able to connect directly with our spirits; could it be possible that my immense anger had disrupted this bond? I felt a strange presence that was unfamiliar to me followed by a sharp ringing pain in my ears that dragged me to my knees. I let out a painful scream which caught the attention of the cultists around the campfire, but I couldn’t move to defend myself. I was on all fours and the sharp pain in my head kept me there. One of the cultists reared back, ready to bring his maul down on my head, when suddenly the pain went away and I let out a powerful scream. Time seemed to slow. I saw the dirt around me begin to rise as the blue aura began to shake sporadically. Everything became quiet and a sphere of energy had circled me in. The sphere exploded, pushing the cultists back and throwing tents aside. The wave of force exerted from the explosion blew out the campfire and I was left feeling weaker. The presence I felt began to take form; my power became clearer to me. My anger was the catalyst and seeing my wife butchered was the trigger. I climbed to my feet with blades in hand; the power I felt coursing through my veins was intense. I saw the cultists in the distance, now up from my last attack, with weapons in hand; a few began to charge. With a quick harsh whip of my swords, I see a dirt trail split like a sea as a wave of energy blasts out of the tips of my swords and into the chest of one cultists. Two cultists rushed toward me within arm’s reach; I quickly dodged their attacks and maneuvered myself in a good striking position. As I spun beneath the blade of one cultist, I dug my blade deep into his calf. I quickly kicked the sword from the other’s hand before bringing both of my blades into his chest. I turned to see more cultists charging at me. I quickly pulled my blades from the man’s chest and lashed downward hard toward the incoming enemies. A force like a hammer dropped on the cultists, plowing them into the ground so violently that they bounced after hitting the dirt. The remaining cultists stayed back in horror; I was amused by this act of cowardice. I sheathed my swords and watched as the cultists fled from the small canyon. I watched as the dust settled, still amazed at my own act of raw power, when I was disrupted by the sounds of screams coming from a cavern at the western edge of the colony. I quickly made my way to the cavern and as I got closer, I realized that the screams were children crying for help. Thinking my son might still be alive; I rushed into the maze-like cavern and raced around trying to follow the echoing calls for help. I wandered around through the various corridors for several minutes, but each dead end made me more discontent. After wandering aimlessly through the beautiful chambers I finally came to a locked cage filled with dozens of children. The cage door was chained shut, but I knew it wouldn’t be a problem to open. I instructed the children to stand back as far as they could before I went to work. I closed my eyes and clenched my fist tightly. I felt the power surge through my hands and heard the lock crush and fall to the floor. The young hostages burst out of the cage and fled for the entrance of the cave, but I couldn’t find my son amongst them. Upon trying to navigate my way out of the cavern, I stumbled into another corridor that displayed a putrid stench. A short distance into that corridor I found a pile of dismembered heads belonging to children that had been massacred. It was long before I realized that the cultists were also cannibals and that my son was a victim to their hunger. I found his dismembered head sitting at the front of the pile; the grotesque site made me vomit. I was hollow now; my family had been taken from me. I rose with a desire for vengeance and the gods were my prey. I vowed to destroy them in the name of my family. They would pay for their treachery and I would be the one to deliver their judgment.



Word Count: 1,730