The Golden Arrow, Prologue

         The Dark King stared impassively at the cringing figure before him.  Flanking the old man were the two High Captains of the king's Dark Guard, the corps of elite soldiers who continually guard the palace.  The Dark King's voice echoed strangely in the barely lit hall, almost as if the echo was heard before the actual sounds were made.
         "Tell me what you have seen prophet and I may spare your miserable hide." 
The prophet dropped to his knees in front of the great onyx throne and bowed his head to the floor, his whole body trembling with terror.  "My Lord, please remember that I am but a messenger of the spirits and these words are not my own."  He hesitated for a moment and then began.  "Beware of mixed blood my Lord, for from the blood of a human and a Kapre will come the one who may end your reign of Darkness.  A sign from the heavens will herald his coming and all who witness it will know hope.  Only he has the light to drive back your mighty shadow and end your power."
The Dark King leant forward until his pale eyes were level with the prophet's.  "Tell me truthfully now... Have you told anyone else of your vision?"
"None my Lord I swear it!"
         "And how can I prevent this prophecy from happening?"
         "I do not know my lord, how does one stop the tides from turning?"
         With a grim laugh the Dark King rose to his feet. "One drains the sea dry of course!"  With a nod to the guards the old man was dragged to his feet.
         "Please my Lord you said you would spare me!" he shrieked.
         "Fear not little prophet, I said I may spare your hide and I shall.  I still have a use for you if you are willing.  You will be instrumental in seeing that your prophecy is rendered obsolete."
         "Anything my Lord!"
         "Anything...?"
         "Yes my Lord, just spare my life!"
         "You will soon wish I had killed you instead."
         An armoured fist smashed into the Prophets face with shattering force.  Blood immediately began pouring from his mouth and he gave forth a gurgling cry, his jaw flapping on broken hinges.  Sagging in the arms of one of the men, his head was forced back by the other as the Dark King pulled forth a wickedly curved dagger.  Eyes wide with terror he began to scream hoarsely as the blade was forced into his mouth.  With a few quick movements the tongue was extracted and fell to the smooth marble floor along with the limp form of its previous owner. The Dark King spoke three ancient words of power, harsh and guttural, and the severed tongue began to turn black.  A thick smoke rose from it to float before him in a turbulent mass.
         "What do you require of me Master of Shadows?"  The voice that spoke the words came from within the smoke.
         "You know of the Kapre?"
         "Yes master."
         "I want you to use the body from which you were summoned to create a material form in this world, a countenance that will strike fear into the hearts of all the Kapre.  A body designed to exterminate every last one of them."
         "Your wish is my command." The roiling cloud, moving with startling speed, enveloped the unconscious prophet and began to merge with it. With a tearing of skin and a snapping of bones the body began to transform and with an ear-splitting roar the demon of death was born into the world of life.