An Archaic Memory (P)

Prologue

Caenum Unleashed

EIGHT HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN YEARS AGO

Remnants of past flashed in front of his eyes. Memories, nothing concrete – nothing discernible. He did not wish to see it. He never wanted to do this. The screams could tear his ears out, but he listened. He watched. He owed them as much.

The dungeon’s ceiling plunged to the underground around them, and he stood at the very center of the enchanted ruin of the past whose magic was now broken. There was pain – but it was fading away.

D’Tagen swung his steel at him in vain. As the broken king slashed his sword for the second time, his outline flickered, bringing forth a past self that showed his once handsome face. The young prince with whom he had once rode to the abyss smiled at him for less than a moment, before the transformation began again, and the prince vanished. A young boy barely a few years old fell to the quaking ground beneath their feet. Scelus turned away.

“What have you done?” screamed the Elder King. His existence was slowly being erased too but, being the all-father, the Elder King’s strength could hold Caenum away from himself. Not for long, a voice hissed all around the structure.

“The strength of the Kings… holds the world together,” cried the Elder. “You have brought destruction and ruin to all! Why?”

More than anger, he thought he saw disappointment reflected in the All-father’s eyes. The Elder King had made them all, he was the one constant in this world since the beginning of time. If there could be a beginning at all. Elder King had mentored him before he had chosen him to be the keeper of Darkness. The memory seemed more like a dream now, and with every second the details slipped from his mind. He wanted to remember them all. Slowly he turned away from the King of Kings, after making certain that Caenum got to him.

All around him, the shapes shifted, so many stories and details that would be forgotten. His own memory of them was leaving him as they died, one after another. There were 9 of them in all, including him. And the stones of the ancient dome of the Sept rained down around him, as the ever-shaking earth quickened its pace.

He spared them all one final glance, and whispered to no one in particular, “I am sorry.”

And then it took him. The pain returned, ever so slightly at first, and then it tore him apart. They were all gone now, he felt it. The memories faded as soon as he found in his mind that he had to breathe. But he knew not who he was, he was nothing.