Splintered - Prolouge

It was dark, not the dark of night but the impenetrable dark of a place where no light ever ventures. The light of sun, moon and stars had never entered this place. In addition to the absence of light sounds seemed to have fled as well as warmth. The passage was almost a mile beneath the surface of the world, yet it was as cold as the frozen seas in the north. It was as if everything that defined life had fled long ago. Despite the dark, the silence and the cold Faldir was not afraid. He had always loved the dark places, even places like this one. It was his place of safety and security. Abandoned as a child in the street of a nameless city in the hot southlands he had hidden in the shadows and other dark places to keep cool and safe during the day. At night he came out and stole what he needed to survive. At first he only took what he needed, but later as his hatred grew he began to not only steal items and food but to take others’ lives as a way of revenge.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the terrors he grew up with Faldir was also gifted. His mind was quick his body was lean and strong. He had picked up many skills over the course of his 20 years of life. He knew more than a few spells, some minor some more powerful, he was adept at thievery, as well as with a multitude of weapons. Yet these were not his true gift; Faldir’s gift came from the power of his mind. This was a skill that came a quite a surprise to him (and many others). As a young man on the street he had been cornered by a group of street thugs. They were intent on taking what little he had and then his life. As they rushed, he felt… something surge through him. Two of the thugs were suddenly immolated in flames.  Faldir could still remember the mixed feelings of fear and ecstasy watching the two of them burn in the alley. 

This discovery had led him to delve deeply into his own mind; he found a voice there that spoke to him. It was old, it was full of venom, it was evil, but it showed him paths to power. Power to torture his victims and to take anything he wanted.  As he learned more from the voice, he slowly began to die inside; the powers shown by that ancient malicious voice in his own head combined with the experiences of his youth had left him as black, empty and cold as the passage he now walked down.

The passage slowly began to grow lighter; he was almost there. The voice had promised him that at the end of this passage was a fabulous treasure.  “It will change you and give you even more power over your enemies” the voice had promised, “when you pass through the void you will find it hidden there, waiting for you”. Now he was almost through the void, the space of dark and cold that had kept everyone else out. But he knew how to “see” with the power of his mind and to cloak himself with warmth from his own body. The voice had shown him this; it had told him he must master this or he would surely die attempting to get his reward, no his birth right.

With the growing light came a return of warmth and sound. The passage began to grow into a vast chamber lit by an angry orange red light. Soon the heat grew to the point where a normal man would have been baked alive. Again the voice had provided a means to counter this. He knew how to control his body temperature. Faldir took a moment to control his breathing and to re-focus his mind. He felt the heat grow distant and fade.  He opened his eyes and when they adjusted to the light he could see that he stood on near the edge of a chasm. At the bottom of this flowed the blood of the earth, molten rock and metal it was this that provided the light and brought the heat. The magma surged up and down never quite cresting the lip of the chasm but always coming close as if in warning.  Faldir looked to the other side of this gap and saw an area that the glowing light could not entirely illuminate. It was a single black pedestal in the center of the flow.  At the top of this was a small dais upon which rested something.  What this something was Faldir could not make out, the distance was simply too great. 

Once again the voice provided. Closing his eyes again he concentrated hard on lightening his body while still maintaining his internal temperature. After a few minutes he felt his heels leave the ground, then his toes. In a matter of moments he was floating a few feet above the ground. He used his will to push himself forward. Slowly, ever so carefully he moved across the gap towards what was rightfully his.  As Faldir approached the dais he could see more clearly that the object on it seemed to be moving. It was a mass of black, flowing and undulating like water suspended in air. Inside the blackness was something else; something long and slender. This was it, he was finally here. The voice in his head grew in power and volume. It now sounded like it was in the cavern with him. “TAKE IT” the voice commanded, “NOW, TAKE IT NOW!”. Faldir let his concentration slip and dropped, fortunately he was close enough to the dais that he was able to grab the edge and scramble up to the surface. However, in his lapse of concentration he had also lost control of his body temperature. He began to feel the oppressive heat, his lungs were on fire, his skin was burning, but the through the agony the voice told him what to do. He calmed himself and through the blinding pain he mastered himself again.  Yet much damage was done, his skin was blistered and blackened. Although he had stopped the pain he could not truly heal the damage.

The voice became louder again, “TAKE IT! DO IT NOW!” it commanded. Faldir began to wonder if he was being used, it was as if a small part of the child he had been had resurfaced and a gnawing worry began to grow. He stood but did not reach into the dark mass in front of him.

“TAKE IT!!” 

Faldir hesitated again, he was afraid now. Fear was bubbling up in him. He could feel an oppressive evil ancient and more terrible than the heat in the cavern. It was growing, coming from the mass in front of him. Then he felt his arm being forced to reach out. The voice was laughing at him now, a cold cruel laughter. As his hand touched the surface of the black roiling mass it vanished. In its place was a long sword, of breathtaking beauty and terrible evil. It was more than five feet in length and made of a single piece of unidentifiable material. Every inch of its alien surface was covered in runes and glyphs that glowed with a red that looked like blood lit on fire.  The Sword floated there for a moment then it plunged into Faldir’s chest. Even though the temperature in the room could have melted normal metal, the sword was clod and icy as it slid into Faldir’s heart. He sobbed as he understood. He knew everything now. The sword had been the voice; it had found him, alone and resentful. It had nurtured him and his hatred. It had given him the abilities and now it was taking them back. It had used Faldir to free itself and now would use him again. 

You see the Sword was absorbing Faldir’s soul, his very being. Faldir could feel his body contracting and shriveling as his essence was sucked into the greedy thing that had pierced him. As he died he knew regret, but it was far too late for that. Again the voice, now coming from the sword, laughed at him. Faldir managed one last croak, and then died.

“FREE, YESS I AM FREE!!!” a voice boomed in the cavern. Then the sword laughed again as it turned its point upward and plunged through the roof of the cavern as Faldir’s shriveled body caught fire and burned. The ancient evil that had been locked away by the Gods many millennia ago was free again.