Prologue ~Cret~

135 Years Ago

Damus Canyon

Leadus Province

Thick unforgiving tension stressed the sectioned room of the tent beyond the point of discomfort, making it impossible to breathe in front of the council of Elders. Each one more intimidating than the last with their murderous gazes fixed right on me. This wasn't a real meeting. It was just another moment for these people to enforce their superiority over me. Every time I was summoned before them this was what happened; a stare off until I withered and faltered under their intensity. But not this time. I fought the urge to flinch or step back when one moved in my direction. They would get nothing out of me.

It was foolish to be so bold in front of such high ranked warriors. These were the longest living of the Opsona race, each one with harsh silver hair and age-faded eyes. A century was nothing to them, just another unit of which to measure the passage of time. The oldest souls in existence, perhaps even older than most lower level deities that the varied races of the worlds worshiped. It wasn't their age I feared or their skills as I forced eye contact, it was the knowledge that these men and women all strived for one thing—my death.

They murdered things like me for sport and took on stronger villains for pleasure to test their skills. I wouldn't stand a chance against one of them let alone fifteen. Then there was the matter of those outside of the tent, a whole encampment of my estranged brethren. I couldn't stop them if they felt tonight was the night to end my embarrassing existence, but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of cowering either.

Each Elder was poised on the edge of caution as they stared at me, eying my every subtle movement, expression, a single flinch—anything that could grant them a reason to strike me down. I was used to it. Didn't matter where I went, which clan I tried to find a place in, even the group of tainted outcast Opsona looked down or away when I entered. Nothing like me had ever been created before.

"You are an abomination to this race and creation herself." The large Elder in the front growled flashing his disapproving gray eyes.

Clearly the leader of the group as the others inched back, passing glances between themselves. Glances that held questions and uncertainty—what do they have planned for me?

Puffing out his chest to rise his figure just slightly taller than mine, the leader glanced down in my direction flashing his superiority like some alpha male in the prime of mating season. I didn't know this man any more than I knew my estranged mother, but I hated and envied him all the same. Intricate markings adorned his face and hands in overlapping patterns that suggested a tribal heritage but were more flowing than angled. I wanted those markings. I wanted the honor and pride they represented, something to show I belonged among these people, but they would never allow that.

This man was of the Silade Discipline as evident by the bold black color of his tattoos, fifth degree indicated by the swirl pattern repeating upon the back of his left hand, extending down over the first and second knuckles. The black knots tattooed down the right side of his face said he was a more physical, brute force type of warrior, a heavy battle ax no doubt his weapon of choice. More of the same Opsona markings wrapped around his biceps telling of his magical abilities of which there were few. On the side of his neck was the tattoo I coveted the most. The Opsona crest drawn across his weathered skin, the black mark of pride weaving and bending to the contour of his flesh. I wanted that mark, but they would kill me if I ever dared to brand myself with that honor.

These people—this man—were not to be fooled with. No Silade was to be fooled with. Unlike the Dexnu Discipline, those with white tattoos, the Silade were merciless and inflexible. They took the Opsona tradition of pride and honor very seriously, everything in the world that was not blessed by the Virtuous ones was wrong. I was wrong and they would love to correct that.

"I've heard this all before," I replied in an insubordinate manner. After twenty-five years of cowering before these people I didn't care. My life was a torment, being in front of them only made it worse. I wanted it over with.

"Why did you summon me here?"

The shock from my disrespectful response washed over the crowd of Elders, the other four Silade in the room glared in my direction with murder in their eyes. The rest started to whisper glancing at me with their own disgusted and resentful looks. They hated me for what I was. A dark mark on the Opsona, a thing which was spawned from a moment of pure insanity on my mother's part. It didn't matter that I never asked to be brought into this world, or that my mother was still one of the most highly respected warriors in all the clans despite her treason. Unclean blood, a demon's blood mixed with mine. I was nothing more than a target to them.

Not even the tainted Opsona welcomed me, the ones who had become infected with darkness or gave themselves over to it willingly for some type of gain. It wasn't unusual for an Opsona to be captured in battle and then tainted by their captives, by mingling their blood with an Opsona an Underworld creature could make certain they would not be reborn. It was an effective method of permanent disposal.

Other tainted were chosen by the Elders to give themselves over to Underworld creatures to gain strength, power, or knowledge in order to fulfill the Opsona mission. They were all like me, damned for spiritual death once our lives had met their conclusion and still there was no place for me.

My father refused to acknowledge my existence. The bastard had turned me away as well because I had Opsona blood running through my veins and they were the enemy. I was a child of twisted fates that had no place to belong.

You're playing with fire Cret. I had to remind myself. I was holding firm in my stance even as the leader took a step forward, my eyes scanning the crowd for any movements that might signal I was in real danger. I was scared, and I would be foolish not to allow myself to feel the fear. These people could kill me with no regret, just breathing was enough reason to strike.

"I should kill you where you stand!" The venom dripped off every word that passed the leader's cracked lips.

"Then do it," I challenged back. A few of the Elders inching their hands toward concealed weapons. "What's stopping you?"

The Silade Elder looked at me disappearing into deep thought. He had to be entertaining the idea of my death, the pleasure my blood would bring spilt upon the rusted red earth floor of the canyon. There was too much satisfaction in his eyes for him to be thinking of anything less. My fingers twitched on edge, the sharpened point of tension that was continuing to build was urging me to draw my weapon.

Are you mad? The voice inside my head screamed. I was provoking the moment but I didn't care. I was sick of this game. Sick of this life and all its devils. Would death be that bad?

The leader let out a small huff of a laugh before speaking again, "I wouldn't want to dirty the ground with your mingled blood."

My father's rage boiled deep inside me, it was hot tempered and the draw to let it rage was tempting. I was sure with my demon blood I could take two or three out before they put me down. That would be a good death, but I didn't want to give them that satisfaction. The idea of death suddenly lost its appeal and I drew my rage back.

"This is a waste," I gave one last snip as I turned my back and headed for the entrance. Turning my back on all these killers was insane, but I had a feeling there was a reason I had lived to see twenty-five. A reason they didn't kill my mother the moment she was impregnated with such a filthy child.

"You have not been dismissed," the leader yelled after me. "We have things to discuss."

Drawing back the thick fabric flap that sectioned the tent I flicked my hand over my shoulder to dismiss his command. I was done with these people, with this life. Rustling footsteps followed behind me, but I was already in the main room of the tent heading for the last cloth door that would lead me out into the shadows of night. Once out there I could lose them. Shadows were my realm not theirs.

I darted through the entrance and hit something, a wall of some type that sent me stumbling back into the tent. The Elders following me stopped as a tall woman entered. She was slender with a stern motherly look upon her face. Knowledge filled pale green eyes. A sweet rosy smell fluttered into the room when she entered but there was nothing soft or sweet about her look. It made me feel like a child being scolded.

"Pardon me," I said trying to move around her but she turned to her right as I tried to pass, blocking my exit once again. "Move," I growled trying to her left only to have it blocked again.

"Show some respect mongrel," the old leader commanded from behind me, but I ignored him.

I needed to get out of this place. The anger of my demon had brought me to the edge of my feeble control. The last thing I needed was to rage around these people that so longed to see my death. I ducked to her right quickly and I was stopped again.

Through clenched teeth I ordered one last time, "Move!"

The woman's straight mouth inched up in the corners, a grin widening her lips as her gaze shifted behind me. A few expressions glossed over her eyes before she nodded to the others. Something happened in those moments, some type of non-verbal conversation I was unaware of. I found that to be rather aggravating.

I tried to make one last plea for an escape but the woman silenced me with her own command. "Come with me. We have much to talk about little one."

The urge to lash out bit at my senses but when our eyes met my demon backed down. It pulled away and cowered back to its place. The world of tension fell away and calm overcame me. No one had ever looked into my eyes like that, met my stare as directly as she did. There was no disgust in her eyes or judgment, and as she turned to lead me away I followed. For whatever reason, I followed her with a renewed interest.