1 Chapter One
A long time ago, far in the West, so far west it is its own realm separate from the earth, the veil that covers the realm of spirits and monsters is much thinner than on our own earth. Some places in particular had a special connection with the spirit world. One of these places was a small valley.
At the bottom of the valley was a crevice. While appearing to be just a crack, it was an entrance to the land of the dead, where souls went when they died. The West was peaceful, evil was nowhere to be seen. However, unbeknownst to the gods of the Old West, corruption was still very much present. As fate had it a village had been built on top of that little crack, and there, evil flourished.
The village had a humble beginning, a group of people whose village was recently destroyed found the valley. It had food, water, and plenty of space for building. The villagers soon began developing the land and soon after, the village thrived. However, as bad luck would have it, a man of great evil heard about the connection to the land of the dead and sought its power. He traveled by horse, riding a great black mare with red eyes.
By day and by night he grew closer to the village. The village church began to sense a great evil nearing and warned the Sheriff who gathered his deputies and marshalls to prepare for the evil. Finally, after 3 days and three nights, the man arrived. All who stood in his way were killed, for this man was of no ordinary evil, he was a servant of Black Magic, a Necromancer.
All who refused him as the village's new leader were torn out of his path. After weeding out all who resisted him, the man strode over to the crack which had been buried under a statue of the town's founder. Tearing it up with little effort he peered down the crack. The man laughed, not of joy, but madness.
"All who stand here before me," His voice echoed through the valley with the aid of magic. "Prepare to see the full might of evil!" He unsheathed a sacrificial knife and slicing his palm, he began to chant in the forbidden language of the dark. The crack grew and light began to pour from it.
The screams and cackles of evil souls echoed as they emerged from the ground. Villagers screamed as the undead began to rise. Husky hands clawed their way up through the crack, decayed flesh falling off of them. From this moment forward, evil had been unleashed unto the world in its full power once more. The Necromancer took on an apprentice and together they ruled the village.
Most of the gods had not seen this event and unbeknownst to them, the seed of corruption had been planted in that town and it would continue to spread. However, one minor god did see the takeover of the town, and he sought the oracle of the river Thrawn for advice.
"O great oracle! Please help me!" He cried
Smoke flowed from the oracle's mouth and she gave the god his prophecy
Down in the valley where the Evil lies,
A man shall be born of righteous blood
He will be the reason the Evil dies
In fifty years, this shall be done
The god was nervous. Who knew what would happen in fifty years? By then the world may be to the point beyond fixing. For now, there was nothing he could do but wait.
Fifty years later, the evil continued to spread and many towns were corrupted by the power of evil. Wars between the living and the dead broke out with the town of the valley at the center of it all. A great warrior and general Flay had been wounded in battle with the evil. Using the last of his energy he limped into a small farm not far from the valley.
Stumbling into the sheep pen he fell into an unconscious state. The woman who lived on the farm heard the racket of the sheep bleating and went outside to see what had happened. She did not know if the sound had been caused by evil beings and trembled as she opened the door. Sheep were bleating and she felt the cold air bite her skin as she stepped outside.
In the light of the candle, she saw a man. He was quite handsome and muscular looking but looked seriously injured. She brought out a stretcher that she used for the sheep and carefully lifted the man onto the stretcher and took him inside. She had a very good knowledge of herbs and healing and managed to restore him to better health.
His injuries were very serious however and would never fully heal. His arm had been torn off so he had been given a prosthetic and the injuries to his legs would mean that he would need a cane to walk. This seemed like a loss at the time because the light had lost a very important man but turned out to be the savior the light needed.
Flay began to have feelings for the woman and soon they had a child. He was born on the same day the prophecy was made, fifty years ago. He was the chosen one, born from a great warrior and a descendant of creation. The woman was a descendant of Rhyse, the creator goddess.
Their child would be very powerful as he had the blood of a warrior and creation. All in the world could sense that he was born, a child of great power. The child lived a very normal life. His name was Baladan and he lived with his father and mother on their farm away from the battles between evil and good.
The boy was a very hard worker and was a big help on the farm. His parents were very proud of him. He was a smart boy who studied and learned with his parents. He was also taught manners by his parents and learned how to fight with his father, and heal with his mother. All of this changed on his eighteenth birthday. On the night he turned eighteen, undead soldiers heard that the great warrior Flay was hiding on the farm.
