Xanthiilus tossed and turned in bed, dreams brutally attacking his mind with vicious determination and clarity. The memory had burned itself wholly into Xan’s mind, and replayed itself vividly with startling accuracy. He was back in London, shortly after the Reformation. He had been wandering the streets late one night, leaving the monastery he was a monk of. The silver phoenix amulet glimmered and caught the flickering lamplight eerily. He was a member of a secret order that masqueraded as a well respected religious brotherhood. He had been ordered to patrol the streets, for his order was charged with protecting the citizens of the world from creatures of darkness. He was low in the ranks, and was being punished for questioning his superior’s orders. He had been ordered to patrol without any weapons.
He tugged his robes tighter about him. It was cold, and raining just enough to make things unpleasantly damp. He turned into a dark alley, almost hypnotized by the faint slap, slap of his sandals on the wet stones. He stopped abruptly, pulling his hood down. His long black hair was loose, and hung around his shoulders. He peered into the darkness of the alley ahead. He heard a faint sound of a girl laughing and her moans of pleasure. He frowned, wondering about people doing that outside on a night like this. He started tugging his hood back up and began to turn around. He let his hood drop back and he stared back into the darkness in disbelief.
“No…it can’t be…” he whispered, lips barely moving. His eyes slowly filled with a dim silver gleam.Continue reading “Rise, Rise – Chapter Two”