Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ At the cost of your loved ones... ❯ At the cost of your loved ones... ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

The summer night sky was as clear as the pure white radiance of the waning white moon beamed down upon the canopy of the enormous temperate rainforest. Under the canopy was a completely different story. The high thick blanket of greenery prevented most of the direct light of the white moon above to shine through. There was a tint of jade light from the tiny green moon peaking from behind the larger white one. While over the canopy the air was fair with a cool breeze swaying above, the atmosphere within the woody understory and forest floor was stale and sweltering with insulated heat and moisture. The contained humidity resulted in the vast distribution of thick mist. The ground was composed mostly of mud, roots, and a green layer of a diverse amount ferns. The air echoed with clicks and chirps of various insects and amphibians conveying their bliss within their soggy haven. Though upon hearing abrupt vibrations, frogs and insects fell silent as something, or someone hastened through the marshy underbrush. Its footsteps were rapid and its breathing heaved at a bit slower pace then its steps.

I’m not too late, I’m not too late. I can’t be! Tark tried to convince himself as an attempt to calm down, running swiftly through a murky jade fog, I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it. His left hand kept hold of his right shoulder, his sword loosely settled in the half-ripped sheath on his back. Taking the dense, damp air into his lungs, he could taste the strong scent of woody detritus. Only the sounds of the whipping foliage he passed and rapid breathing rung in his ear. He tasted blood oozing down from the gash under his right eye to the tip of his lip. His large boots and his dark pants were soaked and covered in mud. The leather tunic over his tattered gray shirt stained with spattered blood; it was a grim mark of his intense struggle and nearly impossible escape out of Gargeth’s citadel and the ambush of his devious subordinates. Luckily for Tark, the worst he received was a deep slash across his right cheek and a direct stab under his right shoulder. To Tark’s notice, the entire time his throat hadn’t run dry; the drenched air he inhaled that constantly replenished his trachea with moisture. He reminisced the last threatening words Gargeth had yelled to him as he was escaping the dark fortress. “Your power is too valuable to me Tarkthen Byrak. I gave you a chance to keep your sanity. Rejecting me will be your greatest regret…at the cost of your loved ones!” His treacherous voice imprinted in Tark’s mind.

Over my dead body! Tark’s mind was completely overwhelmed, his body utterly exhausted, running throughout the entire night. But he had to keep going. He had to reach his village before it was too late. I can’t be! There is no way that sorcerer and his puppets could have made it so far. Tark attempted to unwind his mind, not to waste energy on anger and distortion. He tried focusing but thoughts swayed to other bitter disbeliefs. He was torn to the discover the dark truth. Gargeth! The man honored as a savior throughout the continent. How could it be true that he is deceiving everyone. All this time, Gargeth was not earning loyalty and trust of the people. He had been feeding upon their hate and suffering. It was through their negative energy, along with his arcane arts he had managed to manipulate their minds and beliefs, causing the innocent to fight amongst themselves. At the same moment, Tark was bewildered by what Gargeth had told him when he had arrived at the castle, revealing Tark’s true identity, a possessor of immense power.

Argh! That’s not important right now. I must make it back home and ensure their safety. It would seem that in such distress and haste, the man was running through the forest blind. But He knew exactly where he was going, heading straight towards his destination. He could navigate just as birds navigate through their long migrations. It was one of his peculiar traits. Tark knew that there was something that differed him from everyone else…something extra. After Gargeth’s elucidation of his uniqueness, He finally understood it all. It made so much sense. But he never had the slightest idea that he was a…

“Ahh…” Tark hissed in pain as he applied more pressure on his right shoulder. He reckoned that the blow delivered onto his shoulder must’ve contained a mild poison, but he had no worries of overcoming it. All he could think about now was those he cared dearly for, those who cared dearly for him. He thought of his father, the man who was the sole protector of the family. He battled the elements far and wide for the well being of his family. His father was the very idol of him and his brother. His precious mother, who was always there to comfort her children in her loving arms. Along with the family, his parents took the time aiding and providing for anyone in need, from traveling wanderer to the entire village. His older brother, the one who always looked out for Tark and taught him everything he knew. And his younger sister, the shining jewel of the family. She always managed to give a soothing smile even during the most troubling occasions.

He almost chuckled in thought of his two dearest life-long friends The trio had been through thick and thin together. They were for the most part his two non-related brothers. And then there’s his most cherished treasure, the love of his life. Oh how she reigns as the goddess of his world. He could picture her beauty ambling through the low flowered hills of the open meadow. Daffodils, her favorite flower, nestled in her golden brown locks which would sway in the breeze along with her light peach-colored dress. Standing beside her, looking down on her amber eyes, her soft delicate lips. Tark, living a heaven on earth, would embrace her in his arms, resting his bare cheek on her head silky locks. Recalling the sunny days laying in the fields. Her lips of desire. The purity of her soul that cleanses his very own. Those divine nights spent under the willow on the riverside, the starlight shimmering on the water’s surface…My love, I will be with you very soon. Tark had been running all throughout the evening. He still had to cross the mountain pass bordering the side of the forest. He most likely won’t arrive home until the morning. But it was the love of those he cared that fueled his endurance, keeping him strong.

Just as Tark zigzagged through a thick grove of small trees, a large and dark body lunged out of the ghostly green aura, ramming straight into Tark from his left side, tackling him into the ground. As his body crash landed violently onto the root covered surface at the base of a trunk, his torn sheath gave way and his sword slid a distance away from his impact. He fell onto his injured right arm and bellowed in pain. He steadily sat up, grasping onto his throbbing right shoulder. He froze as he heard the large growls and snarling all around him. He looked up, his wavy brown hair always in the way drooping down at eye level, but he knew that he was surrounded.

As he slowly rose to his feet, the vicious growling only became more intense. He pulled his hair back as he noticed seven abnormally large wolves all gathered with one thing on their minds - to feed. Tark made a close observation at the beasts, their dark coats giving a ghostly aura in the filtered moonlight. These again! He had already hacked his way through a massive pack of these monstrous canines back at the gate while escaping the castle. The dark sorcerer must have had summoned more of them. But only seven? They were probably following me the entire time. No matter. With no time to spare, a dark gray wolves initiated the offense. It dove toward him, opening its wide monstrous jaws, the thick saliva dripped down from its razor-sharp teeth. Timing it perfectly, Tark jumped into the air performing a spin kick that hit the beast square in the face. As the wolf yipped, slamming down onto the ground, the other beasts started barking wildly. He wildly scanned in all directions for his sword. He at last spotted it as the blade glistened through the shroud at the feet of a distant wolf. Tark took off towards that direction while the beasts behind him followed with no hesitation.

The wolf in front of him bowed its forelegs, embracing itself as it prepared for Tark to attack. He jumped into the air heading straight to the beast with a flying kick, shouting an intimidating yell. The beast in target abruptly evaded his aerial assault which was just what he wanted. Gracefully landing on his feet, he grabbed hold of his sword with both hands. In the next second he spun around slicing two wolves behind him. He staggered, barely tolerating the pain on of his right arm. But he couldn’t let that slow him down. Three more were coming closing in. Wretched beasts. Gargeth intends on slowing me down. I must finish them now! He gave a battle cry as he lunged forward at the charging oversized black creatures. The wolf in the lead jumped in the air while the other two raced low to the ground. Tark jumped up after the first wolf and executed a back flip kick from under its open jaw. The kick broke the monster’s jaw, and the shock sent it hurling down to the ground onto its head, breaking its neck. Landing back on the ground, he turned around and his sword stabbed another through the left side of its rib cage, piercing its lungs and heart. He heard the beasts behind him. As he pulled out his sword from the felled beast, his eyes widened in sudden astonishment. Tark tumbled down to the ground as the jaws of the largest beast latched onto the left side of his torso. I can’t die! Vivian! I won’t die! I promise!

In a spilt second, Tark’s hazel eyes glowed a bluish white. A great surge of lightning poured out of his body and shocked and fried the enormous canine that was over him, its fur had combusted in flames from the surging energy. The remaining two beasts held their ground as they watched him slowly get up, white flashing form his body. Once he stood up he continued to rise, hovering just over the ground. Before the remaining hounds could even retreat, the ground below their feet started breaking apart through the roots. The beasts flailed through the air from impaling bolts behind them, slamming into tree trunks. Large chucks of earth then levitated in the air with large jolts of static sparking between the boulders and the ground. The wolves attempted to get up and escape but it was too late for them. The large pieces of stone were sent flying towards the beasts, crushing them to death.

There was no movement around him, not even the sound of a cricket. The surrounding electricity subsided and Tark’s eyes dimmed back to normal. With a deep and rushed breath, he fell to his knees and hands, putting his hand on his left side. He was dripping profusely with sweat and blood. But to his consistent fortune, there was nothing fatal. He breathed heavily as he picked up his sword and slowly made his way out of the scene to continue to his village. One by one the woodland inhabitants gained self-assurance to continue their songs throughout the thick vegetation. As he limped passed a corpse of one of the beasts he couldn’t help but look at its face. For some reason the surrounding mist abated so several beams of moonlight managed to hit the surface onto the dead animal. With the moonlight shimmering over the beasts face, he looked closely at its eyes. Its eyes were familiar. There were of the same hazel color as his. No…it can’t be…

Right before his eyes, he witnessed the body of the beast changing, transforming into a recognized figure. No. No, no, NOO! He dropped his sword as he again fell to his knees weeping in front of the body of his older brother. His crying turned to vociferous sobbing simply from the instant fear of the possible reality. He didn’t want to turn back, but somehow he managed to muster a small amount of courage and hope. He grimly saw in the distance the other corpses. He saw his mother, his father, his younger sister. He could tell by the limbs of the two bodies under the stone rumble that they were his two dearest friends. And farthest away…the one he had stabbed on the through its heart and lungs was...The Gods, NO! Tark ran to that body in ever infinite sorrow. He dropped to his knees to hold the body of his fiancé in his arms, nestling his head on her silky golden brown locks, tears cascading down his face onto her pale cheek. He could still smell a faint aroma of daffodils from her hair. Tark put his shaken hand over her half open eyes to close them. For a moment he then started rocking gently with Vivian in her arms, denying to himself that this had happened, praying to the very Gods that he had not just been cursed with a nightmare of nightmares. Vivian, I can’t live without you! His roaring cry echoed throughout the mist, again silencing the forest around him.

He was too late…far too late. The sorcerer was toying with him all along.

Tark continued weeping, he gently placed Vivian’s body down onto the moss-covered forest floor. Standing up he looked down at her cold face. His chin dripping in tears. I can’t live without you! He looked around in bitter agony, I can’t live without any one of you… He turned back and paced towards his older brother. But it was not his older brother he was pacing towards, it was his sword. Picking it up, he gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands, the blade aimed onto the middle of his abdomen. Finally managing to relax his breathing he gave one deep breath and then thrusted his sword inward.

His arms tensed. His whole body tensed, but no matter how much strength he applied, the sword would not go through his body. A twinkle of static light flittered between the tip of the sword and his stomach. The light was repelling the sword. He withdrew the sword away from his stomach and then forced the sword inward again. Again the light repelled the death blow. Tark repeated over and over, trying to stab himself, a frustrating grunt under each breath. Each time was a failed effort. Each time the light would zap in place repelling the sword. Out of sheer rage He yelled, chucking the sword into the air, landing right into the side of a distant tree trunk. Tark had realized at that moment no matter how he felt, his power will always have the will to live.

“I can’t go on! I don’t deserve to live!” Tark yelled at the sky, his fists clenched in the air. He collapsed to the ground, crying and shivering. Aiming to save the people he loved most, in the end, he ended up killing them. Right then and there his anguish and anger started building into hatred…hatred towards that soulless sorcerer. Even graver…Tark hated himself. He could never forgive himself now. He could care less what would happen to him. He could care less what he does, it doesn’t matter anymore. The ones he loved are dead, killed by his own sword. He will forever hate…himself.

Hate.

In meditative content Gargeth already started feeling it…feeding from it. The euphoria of its intensity. The purity of its darkness. With Tark strongly embracing the negative energy and complete loss of all hope, the sorcerer had full control over the chosen one. And with Tark under the palm of his hands, there was nothing stopping him now.