"THIS WAS THE GLORY OF A NEW GENERATION OF HEROES ABOUT TO BE BORN ... THE LORE OF ITS WARRIORS AND THE LEGACY OF ITS PAST."
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***
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The world as we know it is deceitful, the will of time, ever flirting at the edge of worlds that have yet to gain their part of the ever rising peaks that had yet to be attained. It was all due to the way that they had been predetermined, to take on a path as solid as the foundations of time immemorial, this was the start of a never ending void of infinite realities. Its presence hidden and unknown tames reasoning and logic to the point where it seems inescapable, the insanity of being stuck in a labyrinth of voids at the ever revolving centre of worlds, where all seems to be at a standstill and, at the same time, all was ever moving to the trance of the age - a past relic of an ever moving time recreating civilizations at the helm of insanity. This was the start of an era about to take its filial form at the course of this march. Passage after passage, it said it all with the trance, still a result of all the outcomes that had taken their turn to surface, this was his march as always, to the beginning of a new dawn.
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Fang emerged from that passageway into the light, his eyes blazing as he knew fully well that he had pulled another string altering the timelines of events and the schemes of his ever shrewd plots. It had all went well and he had gotten in the full and satisfying outcome he had wanted, it was all the more reason he needed to step it up a notch. The grand game of chaos, who knew, maybe this would be more interesting than he had thought. The will to live, the will to survive, the desire to crush and consume all. All was the primal instinct still lurking at the depths of his soul but, it was the same primal instinct which has still been lurking at the depths of this world. Everything seemed to have taken a peaceful turn of deceit, an illusion that has clouded the eyes of all in this present era, who would have thought that the primordial beasts of that savage era would come to this ? What a thrill he thought with that dark grin on his face, and the reenacting of that era was at hand.
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"I know fully well how that is", he smiled Fang sighed, the Scale Void was so determined to get the BLADE OF DARK FLAMES yet,", placing his hand on his chin, "he didn't even know who he was toying with."
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"The flames are ablaze", he said as the crunching of his feet against the earth rattled across countless dimensions, "and I know that the raging winds of time will come for me soon, which is why", that flicker of flame consumed his hands from the core of his palm its lips dying from that thirst desiring to consume all. It was a replica, a symbolic representation of Fang's raging will, extending itself to his fingers smacking and hissing, then dying at the tips of his fingernails, "I should be prepared."
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But something shook him from his celebratory mood, it felt like heaven and hell had been let loose at the same time in Fang's head, as his gritting teeth could be visibly seen with his lips arching to the left in disgust, as that scream rang unceasingly in Fang's brain.
"That scream", Fang gasped as he managed to recompose himself, "it was a female voice wasn't it ?"
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"A FEMALE VOICE !!!"
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The thought resumed its annoying echo in Fang's head over again and instinctively, for reasons known to Fang alone, his legs were at the ready, as he was about to make the dash of his life, when a firm hand caught him from behind by the collar.
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"What on earth", he growled, "I am done for", were the words racing through his head, he had gotten so carried away by his thoughts that he had forgotten about making his escape before it was too late, "this was what I was trying to avoid all this time", Fang lowered his head as he sighed in utter defeat.
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"Balkyre Fang !", Ora's voice rang from behind him as she yanked his right ear with the anger of a scolding mother. Her eyes were blazing white that Fang was definitely sure - when he was thinking about this incident later on - that he had actually gotten scared. He didn't know how he would have survived with this sly, scheming, godly attitude of his, if Ora had been his mother.
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"Where have you been all this time ?
I've been searching for you everywhere"
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"I know right", Fang whispered to no one in particular, he knew fully well what Ora would do if he was caught mimicking her. Well, that was if she ever heard him say ...
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"You ... you are mocking me Fang, aren't you ?" She tightened her grip on his collar to the extent that Fang would admit, he was going to get strangled to his death.
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"Darn it !", Fang grumbled, this was a tight noose he had gotten his neck deep into.
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"No, no ... not at all", Fang denied as he struggled with her pull, trying to gasp for air.
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This was a situation he had wanted to avoid by all means, what had he gotten himself into by getting engaged with a woman of this temperament. This was a disaster, Fang would have said in his usual manner, but due to Ora's strangling hold, breathing was difficult not alone talking.
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"Fine then", she sighed releasing her grip on his collar and holding him by the wrist, "it's time to take you home."
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"Home ?" Fang's left eyebrow tilted upwards showing how puzzled he was at her decision, "Didn't your father warn you to stay away from me ?"
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This was definitely not going well, Fang concluded, if Ora took him home, there'd be no way he'd be able to stop by at the tavern to grab a drink, which he direly needed at this very instant.
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Ora's accusing glare fell on him, making Fang feel like a rabbit staring into the face of an enraged tiger, he already knew where this was going.
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"You think I'd be willing to leave you here and risk having to go manhunting across the taverns of Malma, where you're going to accumulate debts on drinks you'll buy on credit !"
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"Buying things on credit isn't all that bad", Fang pulled away from Ora as he reclined onto a standing pillar, "as long as I pay my debt, all's well that ends well", he shrugged without a care in the world.
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"For your information Mr All's Well That End's Well, those debts are taken in my name and you've made me spend all my money clearing up the bills that you have accumulated from drinks that you've refused to pay for !" Ora seethed.
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"There's a price for everything", Fang hinted at their relationship.
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"A price ?" Ora mocked, "And aren't you ashamed that a woman is the one who's paying off your debts ?"
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"Not one bit", Fang winked, and that complacent and annoying look of his, was what sparked Ora into making her final decision.
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"That's it Balkyre Fang", she gripped his hand with a clamp-like force, "I'm taking you home !"
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"Please Ora", Fang pleaded, "just a bottle"
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"No way", Ora declined firmly as she marched on, dragging Fang along, who looked like a stubborn schoolboy refusing to attend his daily lessons, "A bottle in your language means twenty and I can't stand watching you get drunk like a complete moron."
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Well there's no turning back now, he smiled as he was dragged across the courtyard of the now destroyed parliament. He knew fully well the tides turn, it was exhilarating and he was going to catch the thrill of it. Who would miss the apocalyptic march at hand ? No one would every want to witness such a disaster, but the likes of Fang, were willing to wait centuries, in order to be a part of such a momentous moment.
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***
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They emerged from that cave, droves of people, walking and tired, trudging if you say but, there was one who stood proudly in their midst the royal emblem and the last hope of their fallen age, this was Norana the princess of the dragons and by her side was her royal adviser, the ever wise Goranzor and leading them forward, was the ever scheming ARTENA.
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"We have arrived", Artena said, pointing with her whip towards the grand gates of flares before them, "welcome to the Vercan realm."
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***
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Emerging from that blazing blanket of steam, the Scale Void's eyes blazed with fury as he came to a complete realization of what had just happened. He knew very well the thrill of games, he knew how odd it was for him to find the prize, but not the vanquished surrendering before him, or could he assume that his opponent had simply been burnt to smithereens ? It was absolutely ...
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"Impossible", he growled, he couldn't come to a conclusion if this was a trap or just a mere joke, it could even be an utter mockery of his abilities as a Scale Void.
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The Scale Void watched the BLADE OF DARK FLAMES steaming before him, with its blade buried into the parched womb of the earth.
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This was his prize, wasn't it ? Embedded into the womb of mother earth, but that scheming monster, he sighed.
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"Well he left it behind and it's mine for the taking, let's see", the Scale Void pulled out the sword, "if he'll dare come back for it."
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***
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The blizzards were as dense as the waves of a revolting sea at the climax of a storm. The frozen mountains and massive glaciers of this iceland was a landmark of the TURVANDROS continent, whose northern region was closest to the north pole. Thus, it was winter all round, with the dark nights along with its eerie moons. This was nothing more than a frozen wasteland - a desert of ice. But deeper within these icy plains, was one feature which stood as though it dared defy the climate of this part of the world. A tower standing proudly that rose over ten thousand feet above the ground, it was as grand as it was menacing. Its flag proudly flouting itself to the cold winds of this savage night, it bore the emblem of three maces crisscrossing at a common centre, with a golden circle made up of centripetal dashes of gold surrounding its red background, this was the emblem of the THREE MACES OF BLACKHOLE.
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At the topmost floor of this tower, they sat at this meeting, three men in all, with one at the head of this majestic table, while the other two sat to his left and right. Their red masks concealing their faces and their hooded, red cloaks embroidered with their emblem to their capes in threads of gold, they wore gloves studded with jewels and bands of silver reflecting their status, even the chamber itself was as grand as its owners, the masterpieces of art - a variety of carvings, paintings, sculptures and mosaics were all present. But that which stood out and couldn't be left unnoticed, was their emblem draped form the centre of the dome of this chamber, along with the flags and emblems of the other thirty-six kingdoms surrounding it but not as much of a grand scale as theirs. Their very countenance was the core of what one could call global strategists, people who have sowed the seeds of their visions and ambitions upon the generations of this age, and they were known by many of the elites as, the THREE MACES OF BLACKHOLE.
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This was the darkest of day and it was the brightest of night, the conflict which was about to begin was still at its peak of dormancy, but, they could all see the very ends of the earth from where they sat, it was all as they had anticipated. All these centuries the lies and deception, the scheming will of an ancient calling, this was the fall of empires at hand and all who could see it past the conflict - the hall of fallen ages hence, would all come to vision it as the last stand of the era at hand.
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What could be said of the past heroes who had fought for the glory of their age ? It was all a forgotten legend of the past, no more than a completely lost fairytale, which had been laid to waste with the ever fleeting glory of time and the sands of fate, who would say that this was the calling of eternity at its peaks ? It was the full flare that had its gory fury within their eyes. Consumed by their nocturnal visions in the darkest depths of this history of night, they were capable of seeing such an unprecedented variable within the very fabrics of the ends of the universe, it was this that had kept them waiting for the time to come. All was set yet, it all seemed too far to begin, the pause was unending and this stalemate of a battle of wits made them itch for a real fight, the hunger which was as visible as ravenous flames pouring out of their souls into their flesh making their muscles twitch and the hair on their backs stiff, this was the moment when all could be said to have taken a new turn.
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"All has been done as proposed", said Dark, the first Mace of Blackhole.
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It was that call that had made them realize that this fabric, as it was, was slowly becoming more lax than it had been since the closure of the gates to the upper realms.
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Hence, one could say their eternal will was going to tumble soon, with the light falling past, it was the moment they had awaited, the confluence of all angles of time where all reckoning was going to come in its shrewd guise, as a mere lax, a trifling passing of the ever growing will of the gods.
"And we are here to begin it", the second Mace of Blackhole, Flame, smirked, "All who proclaimed that this march was a waste towards laying the foundations that would bring about the coming of the TWENTIETH GRAND DECREE are about to be proven wrong", he clenched his fists.
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"It was our efforts that has made for the passing of the ages smoothly, with the global conflicts still at their nadir, who would have realized that the outcome would result in their own demise", the first Mace, Dark, elaborated.
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"It is their greed, as it stands", smiled Wind, the third Mace, "we could trample upon them and they'd still be willing to help us take themselves to the deepest and most despondent parts of the earth."
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"It was all as the fathers have claimed", Dark recalled.
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"GODS ABOVE US", chanted Flame.
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"ANGELS BENEATH US", continued Wind.
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"DEMONS WITHIN US", completed Dark.
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That proclamation said it all, this was the very foundation upon which the fabrics of the universe of Hayra had stood for ages and, what force of both fate and nature would have the power to rewrite the endgame of time, it was at its very end, it was a fruitless resistance to the decree of time - IT WAS FUTILE !
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"So what will you do the grand god of the ever fleeting fabrics of time ?" The first Mace of Blackhole sighed.
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"We've done as we were told and the sands of this hourglass now flow to the contours that we have laid. Still, we can't wait for it all to pass without our pegs being intact, the flickering flames of centuries are as fickle as the flames of a candle in a sea of mighty gusts of wind", lectured the second Mace.
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The heavy whistling of winds could be heard within, engulfing the silence which had taken over their meeting in these few seconds.
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"The mighty winds we have set in motion will definitely not allow for such to take on a form as unholy as this. Nevertheless, we are willing to see it to the end", purported Wind.
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The night ... it was as the predecessors had professed, with the past pulling forwards, it was within the reach of the ever falling call of the ages. Still, it was that glimmer that boldly laid its unwavering claim. It was that frail spark of fate that had the wolves of this endless night salivating for their fill. Ravenous beasts, they were ready to devour it all and say it was the will of fate, the law of nature, as it stood all were going to perish without the heroes to guide the lost sheep of THE GREAT REALMS OF THE BRIGHTEST NIGHT. The darkness was unending and in that glorious tale of despair and gore, stood all who could witness and see the hands of fate play its cards. It was the hands of fate that were capable of deciding who would end up with its favour.
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The doors leading into the grand chamber of the THREE MACES OF BLACKHOLE opened, his form as elusive as a smoking figure of a blue fog emerging from a sea of darkness, his glorious robes could be seen emanating the aura of who he was at his core, a nearly flattened straw hat in the shape of a kite adorned his head, his sword strapped to the right side of his waist glowed of a blue fiery hunger salivating for flesh to prey on and his eyes were as blue as the depths of an endless ocean of watery flames - an abyss of flares.
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"It looks like we have a guest", the first Mace beckoned to the others.
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He came into their presence and kneeling, he hailed.
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"GLORY TO THE THREE MACES OF BLACKHOLE !"
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They smiled, behind their masks, their smiles radiated of their thrill, so fascinating, that it was capable of consuming vast oceans, because they knew that they had acquired an asset, one which they could use to their advantage.
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He was a being like no other, a successor to a hero who had fought the wars of ages past - the nine thousand year war. As it stood, he was the last of his kind, filled with rage and bitterness, these emotions ... the outcome of a sour betrayal. He was one who had the will of a dead beast, a core as dark as anyone had seen. Who would have thought that the successor to the eleventh hero of the nine thousand year war, would end up taking the side of what the righteous might consider evil. It was the hands of an unrivalled decree alone that could answer it all. Nevertheless, it was as they had decided, all had come to the point where everything, was laid out. Victory was all that mattered to the three Maces of Blackhole who knew what it was that stood at the corridors of a long past fate, a vow of the fathers, intertwining its fabrics to decide who the victor would be.
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"They have it all laid out", the successor to the eleventh hero announced.
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"Is that so", replied the first Mace.
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"Then it is done", continued the second Mace.
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"The glory of the past ages wasn't going to be tarnished as it had to be preserved", the third Mace concluded.
"In what other way shall I serve you ?" The successor of the eleventh hero asked.
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The smile in the eyes of the three maces of Blackhole was as bright as ever, willing to consume all who stood in their path.
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"Then", the first Mace gave his order, "you shall ..."
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***
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The sands of time were ever moving in this vast desert, as it rained of both flares and lightning. Even the winds could tell that they were in the midst of the glorious, it was the mountains that echoed their names, it was the call of glory being sung by the turbulent clouds. The sands and dunes burnt like flames, as radiant as ever. This edifice of time had been preserved for all to see. The statues of the eleven heroes of the nine thousand year war stood at the peaks of those eleven mountains crowning the horizon of this realm, singing the glory of their souls. Their solid and proud stance telling the tales of the past and the glory of their age. It was just as was narrated. Unfortunately, with the passing of time all had been forgotten but, in its place, what was going to be the future of the EARTH GARMENTS ? The glory of a new generation of heroes about to be born ... the lore of its warriors and the legacy of its past.
***
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