Set The World on Fire – Short Story
Set the World on Fire
It had been years since the end of the Crystal Empire. The ancient Scions had reawaken from their slumber and with that brought forth the 3rd Age of Exaltation. They had reintroduced themselves into all aspects of life. Some using their Exaltation to produce fabulous works of art and music, others worked to re-establish the worship of their Masters. Be it through Military force or the Diplomatic routes, their touch had reintroduced the world to the wonder of the old ages.
It seemed to be over night that the Essence powered wonders began to resurface. Masterful airships rose to the sky with them new trade routes and expeditions to the edges of Creation. Towering Manse were discovered and attuned to their power. Many Manses became cultural hubs for salvation and spiritual growth. Terrestrial adventurers flocked to them in order to learn from the Scions. Advancements Martial Arts, Tactical Warfare, and Discipline spread though the lands.
All of Creation seemed at peace. The touch of the Scions changed the world around them, inspiring beautiful art and advancements in technology. Their return brought Creation to a new era of prosperity. They stood as a shining light leading Creation to the wonders of old. The Gods from which the Scions spawned, inspired by their offsprings example showed more love toward all their creation and work. Miracles of nature, longer and more fruitful harvests, and the answering of prayers restored the Gods to their seats of power.
It was in the 267th year of the 3rd Age of Exaltation that the first seeds of darkness flowered. It was a forgotten fact that Exaltation as will all life has balance. For all the good Exaltation, there was dark Exaltation, the Abyssal taint had been dormant in the early years with the Dark Chosen being repressed in secret by their Light counter parts. But nature must balance and all light will cast Shadow.
Marcus Kal sat staring at a tankard of stale ale, the tavern around him stank of equally stale sweat and foul intention. The Buck Kraken was a collection pot for Bounty Hunters, Rogues and the placeless, the ones better forgotten. It was a festering cancer on the shining era the Scions had worked toward.
“Marcus Of the Prismatic Eye,” The whisper screamed through the noise around Marcus. The faint call came from the smoke rising of the candle before him. The whisper rang in his head, seemingly sourceless to his foggy mind. Soon the whisper came again, “Soon you will Die, only to be born again as one who will live eternal. So fear not my touch for all you ever wanted shall soon be in your grasp. We shall speak again soon.” With that the flame extinguished.
Before Marcus could question the occurrence the door to the tavern swung open. A group of heavily armoured warriors stepped in and a hush fell over all those in attendance. The fearless patrons hushed at the sight of these men.
“We are the Chosen of the Champions and we are in search of the one called, Marcus Kal of the Prismatic Eye. For any who have information on his whereabouts they will be richly rewarded. Our employer is rich beyond measure, A Chosen of the Endless Sun. With that said, do any here know this man?” Their words came in perfect unison, as if sharing the same mind voice.
“Aye, I have seen him.” The Bartender spoke up with little hesitation, “Matter be that he be sitten right there.” All eyes turned toward Marcus Kal, a smirk rising across his face, as he gripped his tankard and laughed.
“Well guess the cats out of the bag. What can I do for you boys?” Marcus said smiling over the lip of his glass.
“By order of Master, You are under arrest.” In one smooth motion they drew their weapons, long swords crafted by a master smith, flawless and beyond razor sharp. The blades snow white and polished to radiance, a telling sign of Oricalcum.
Before the tavern could let out their collective breathe a pillar of fire as black as shadow shot up between the soldiers. It sucked all the light from the room for a heartbeat. “Shall we be going then?” The voice came from the center of the group of soldiers, the Marcus stood smiling in their mists, his naked blade shining in the taverns firelight.
Taking a half step forward he wrapped his arm around the neck of the first soldier; his next step brought his foot to the next soldiers’ center. He shot back flipping over the head of the first soldier and drop kicking him in his middle with incredible force and out the tavern door. As he hit the ground he launched forward exposing another blade and driving it in to the hearts of two of his would be captors. As he twisted freeing the blades of their targets a rain of gore sprayed forth. Before the gore touched the ground Marcus had his blades in the air and finding home in the last two soldiers. The whole engagement lasted barely a heartbeat, as the chorus of the dying men rose through the silence. Turning on his heel Marcus moved to return to his stale ale.
Just then he was struck hard by a thick glass tankard. It struck him hard at the base of the neck and the world went black. The only sound Marcus heard was a semi familiar voice laughing in the darkness. “I told you we would meet again soon Marcus Kal of the Prismatic Hand. I am The Endless Sweet Sorrow, and I am here to offer you a chance at rebirth. My master has a task he wants you to complete in exchange for his gift. It is simple, we need you to Set The World On Fire. Do you accept?”
The word echoed endlessly in Marcus’ head.
With that the world returned more vibrant then ever.