Prologue 2

Dark clouds materialized in the clear blue sky over east lagoon village, what started as a beautiful summer day soon turned into a calamity that spelled the end for the poor inhabitants of the small run down village.

East lagoon village was the only port available for days of travels. It was located in a small ridge formed in the river that ran in the bottom of a canyon that divided the nation. The canyon was called the devil's spine and it had formed between two mountain ranges that ran parallel across the continent, looking like the ugliest puckered sword scar earth formation.

The small village was eerily quiet. Even the insects had stopped making noise. Only the angry rumbling of thunder coming from a few dark clouds in the otherwise blue sky.

In the center of the village lay a crudely wooden constructed altar, wood stacked unevenly on top of the other and chained by what seemed to be floating characters, an extremely pure and violent energy condensed to form chains and writing,blood glowing with a dark luster flowing upwards from the surroundings, a young man screamed, but no noise came out.

Feeding on the blood the chains of energy hummed and rapidly drilled in three different parts of his body, between his brows, in his heart and near the lower stomach.

The young man struggled, he felt his last shred of sanity disappearing. He remembered the chain of events that led to these moments. His usual patrol route around the village lay hidden between the massive mountain ranges. The mountains were home to demonic beasts, but his village was in a spot where only flying beasts or sea demons could get to, and those were a rare sight.

The village could only fit 12 houses and with no land to farm it depended on travelers docking on their small beach for trades. There were no guards, and every once in a while bandits would stop by. It being the only natural stop, soon became neutral ground, as any force that attempted to monopolize it would face the scorn of all the other factions. With such a deterrent crime was non-existent.

Some of the villagers would walk around and called it patrol, but the truth was that he just didn't like to fish, so he called himself the village guard would spend his day walking around. That morning he saw an old disheveled man with dark messy hair standing in the sky. And their eyes crossed.

Before he could react he felt his breath leaving his body. He heard the screams, all at once and then, nothing. Straining his eyes, clutching at the hand holding him in the air by the neck, he saw the bodies of his family and friends. All the villagers, dead. The broken bodies floated and surrounded the middle aged man as he waved his hands in a slow yet fast profound manner.

Pieces of a house went flying and arranged themselves in the form of a crudely built wooden altar. All the bodies gathered violently over him and suddenly exploded into blood mist, yet before a mess could be made, the blood mist formed a ball. From the ball characters that seemed made of blood spread around the altar and formed pool around it. His mind still could not process it.

His body held in place by a terrifying pressure, the hum of a horrifying vibration that slowly crept into his very soul, he even thought that the bloody characters were excited. He saw the blood form tendrils and before he knew what to make of it, his felt his consciousness being torn from his body by a soul tearing current.

Then lightning fell.