Curseborn Saga - Fade to Black Read online

  TROWA D. CLOUD

  I – The World of Inner Depths

  A full yet broken moon shone an ardent blue glow over three silhouettes that stood beneath the tempest heavens like heroes rising to challenge. Meteors rained like arrows of fire, as if the distant stars had chosen to wage war on their planet, bringing calamitous explosions staining the sky blood red. The world was dying around them, its final hours a cataclysm. Yet the figures remained calm, floating upon levitated rock high above a realm of black ice. Past their faces the wind blew sharp and chill, as if winter had breezed its icy touch across the horizon.

  Two of them stood side by side, their eyes locked on the undefeatable looming above them. Their opponent stood upon a floating island of ice and vine, rising before them as a God on a blackened perch. His ancient, omniscient eyes were lanced with open challenge. Upon his shoulders hung a faded black jacket that reached to his feet, billowing in the fierce wind along with his long black hair. Ominous black tattoos were woven across the entire left side of his body, from his hands to shoulders to chest, and all the way down to his feet. With a sudden crack, he thrust his oaken cane into the stone, unleashing a score of hidden white crows that took flight from beneath his levitating rock, fluttering and cawing as they rushed past the faces of the two figures, two boys.

  “You’ve kept me waiting,” said the man before them. His voice was enough to chill the senses of even the most haled warrior. An overwhelming power, much like rays of the Sun, pulsed from his body. Yet the two boys did not cower. They merely met his gaze silently, hands clenched firmly on the hilts of their swords, anticipating and waiting for the moment that would bring their end … or beginning.

  “Five hundred rings I’ve waited for this moment,” the dark figure said. “All your sacrifices, all of your own blood spilt—equivalent to a hundred Sorians, that it was! The hardening of your minds and bodies … all for this moment. I’ve weighed your resolve. You have come. I have seen. And you will die before my blade—if this dying world doesn’t take you first. You two have wasted my time long enough.”

  The black-haired boy closed his eyes as if contemplating some difficult philosophical riddle; his face was young, calm and focused.

  The other, with hair of silver starlight, spiking furiously in all directions, had eyes that shone blue and ferocious with the radiance of a full moon. His lips were set in a pleased smile, as if he had come upon that which he had sought for a lifetime. He was clad in a white vest that had gone gray over the years of so much dirt and fighting. It lay wide open in the middle, revealing the hardened body of a sword fighter, yet one who was still young in age. The tips of the vest feathered out to two sides, falling along his dark grey pants, which he had rolled up to the knees and fastened with straps. Upon his feet were merely old wooden sandals.

  “Wasted your time?” he said. His grin widened. “Our entire lives have twisted towards this finale. This moment makes it all worth it. It’s about time we ended this, grandpa. Today, you will fall.” The battle-craving soul of the swordsman kindled strongly within his heart and his eyes flashed brightly as he turned to face his brother. “We will conquer this world and this old man with it … na, Storm?”

  Eyes that shone like emerald sparked to life as Storm opened them. Exhilaration, ferocity and confidence resonated powerfully from a single glance. His pitch-black hair fell across his forehead perfectly, stretching just past his ears and nearly to the base of his neck. A faded silver neck chain clung tightly to his light skin; robed over his upper body was a tight dark sweater, with a white-lined hood that fell over his shoulders. The sleeves, each of which had one vertical zipper running straight up the wrist, were rolled rakishly up to his elbows, revealing a blackish bone armor known as Hollow.

  Arcing across Storm’s hip was a sheathed katana, half the length of his body and curved downwards like the top of a setting sun. Taking a long, deep breath, Storm rested his hand on the katana’s woven white hilt. His resolve was set: His life was no longer in his hands, but poised before him—to lose or to keep. Behind him, a torrent of crimson clouds grew restless on the fading horizon, and jagged flashes of lightning crackled in and out of existence.

  “Caim,” Storm said with a thin smile. “You never change. You think this is a game? This isn’t about fighting the strongest of the strong, but surpassing the limitations of oneself.” He grinned harder and clenched his fist. “But you got one thing right … someone will fall today, yet the felling will be by my blade alone.”

  Caim exhaled and placed his hands on his hips. Sheathed horizontally to his back was a blade of ultimate contrast to his brother’s. It was shorter than Storm’s katana, yet much wider. It lay buried in a leather sheath with only a long black hilt revealed, extending outwards nearly the length of the blade itself. At the end of the hilt hung a tarnished silver chain with many thin links, similar to the one Storm wore around his neck, and shimmering as it reflected the glow of moonlight and lightning.

  “You don’t understand anything,” Caim said. “You can’t beat him alone, don’t you get that by now? We’ve never beat him once. Not in the last 500 rings! It’s like you wish you could do everything on your own, even when you know we have to do this together. Where’s the fun in doing everything alone?”

  Storm sighed, staring at Caim. All these years his brother had never cared for furthering himself, just living his life in the moment, merely reacting without any thought of consequences. He brushed aside a spike of irritation. Some things never changed.

  In the distance, their grandfather’s vexed gaze pierced the sky like lightning. If the boy wanted to fight on his own, then all he would find was a solitary death. Maybe that’s what Storm wanted. Or maybe he was just an overconfident prodigy with an ego that needed shattering. He looked at Caim, who was clearly on edge about his brother’s selfish ambition. Only as one can it be done, he thought. The time was soon to come, and they still weren’t ready. And the price this time … was their lives. There is nothing more I can do for them but take their lives.

  A powerful breeze followed by the faint jingle of bells caught both of the brothers’ attention. It was a sound they knew all too well. They watched as two bells, one of white and one of black, hung from each side of their Grandfather’s sash.

  Ronin spoke coldly. “I don’t understand how you can be so intelligent, yet never learn the simplest of life’s lessons, Storm!”

  “I’ve learned enough for this, Ronin!” Storm answered. “Or should I say, old man.”

  Ronin paused for a long moment before speaking. “Old man indeed, but one who is beyond you in every way nonetheless.” Storm grimaced and Ronin continued, “Inner Depths … the overcoming of one’s mental barriers, the subconscious locks of the mind that free the spirit, bringing forth complete control of all that lies within. This world around you crumbles, falls, and withers at the tips of my fingers. These two bells … they cannot be claimed by your hand alone. Have you not realized why you two have not overcome me for so long? You must learn, boy, that two individuals operating independently will never surpass the capabilities of together as one.”

  “Just because this is the path you used to unlock mastery of Inner Depths doesn’t mean that that is the path everyone must fly,” Storm said. “My brother may be strong, but I will not feel gratified unless I can best you, the most powerful swordsman we have ever known, by my blade alone.” Caim shot Storm an angry look but said nothing.

  “There’s nothing wrong with becoming strong for yourself!” cried Storm. A falling meteor screamed past the two of them.

  Ronin looked down at the meteor as it exploded into the black ice of the world below. “Arrogant as usual, Storm. One day you will learn that there are more important things than your own ambition. Very well. The only way to surpass this challenge is to claim these two bells at the exact same time. With a hand on each at once, or they cannot be pulled free. You can circumvent the ine
vitable fate of this world, if you were only to shatter your own barriers first. I fear that you will never see, as I can now see. You will find no solace in attempting battle with one superior to you in every way—just folly, death, and a broken spirit as you drift into the clutch of one much more terrible than myself. It would seem your time of meeting him has come sooner than I would have hoped … a truly wasted blade you are.”

  Storm’s eyes flashed. “It seems you have forgotten I have two hands of my own, old man.”

  “Storm,” said Caim with sharp eyes, “if you think I’m going to just back down while you fight alone …” He paused. “Why do you always have to act like this? I thought we flew this path together.”

  “You forget that paths have a tendency of splitting.”

  “We’re doing this together whether you like it or not,” answered Caim, his voice rising.

  “Try and I’ll cut you down myself,” Storm said.

  “This is my battle, too!”

  “No, neo … it’s not.”

  Before Caim could answer Storm burst forward, cracking the stone at his feet and flying into the sky towards Ronin. Moving at speeds impossible to follow by the naked eye, Storm laid his left hand on his hilt, his eyes focused only on his target. He froze as Ronin vanished into thin air. Just like that. Gone.

  Storm’s heartbeat accelerated and he switched to slow controlled breathing, focusing his senses on the aura, or the energy, of the world around him. He detected a sudden fiery heat from above and turned to face a falling meteorite that was now only feet away from his face. The burn was incredible and the brightness of it forced his eyes to a squint. He couldn’t move, and could feel the heat singeing away the tips of his hair into dry ash.

  Caim stared up into the sky, screaming as the meteorite crashed straight into his brother. It seemed to have appeared out of thin air, a devastating trick. With only one move, Ronin had secured his victory. He knew that within this world, Ronin truly was its God. Suddenly the meteor shattered into countless specks of fiery dust. Caim could see Storm’s silhouetted body through the cloud of raining ash, and his blade shone brightly through the mist.

  It was then that Ronin appeared, like a visage of death reincarnate, blade drawn from cane and descending on Storm’s unguarded neck.

  “Storm, above you!” screamed Caim. His feet dug hard into the ground, cracking the entire island he stood upon as he burst into the sky towards the two. Even with the ability to Flash: a technique allowing one to travel long distances in the blink of an eye, Caim would not make it. His hand grasped tightly to the hilt of his sheathed Fallblade.

  A clash of steel echoed across the sky like thunder. Storm’s arms were shaking as he broke Ronin’s surprise attack and crossed blades with the Grandmaster of Swordplay.

  “Oh?” said Ronin with a grin. “It seems you have learned something!”

  “I’ve learned a lot more than that!”

  Storm unlocked his blade, unleashing a fury of slashes; the final attack broke nothing but air, and Storm vanished in pursuit. Their clashes boomed thunderously across the sky as they disappeared and reappeared in different places, each time breaking their reunion with a powerful crackling of crossings. Caim came to a stop in the sky, unable to follow their accelerated movements. His eyes simply could not keep up. A sudden falling meteor made him dodge swiftly, and Caim looked down to the black ice where the falling star struck, bringing forth a deathly inferno and the rapid melting of the world’s surface.

  Definitely not going down there, he thought.

  Caim looked back to his brother. To any normal Sorian the fight would seem equally matched, but Caim knew better. No matter how confident or skilled Storm was, it was only a matter of time until their grandfather stopped toying with him.

  “You need my help, Storm …” he said. “I know you know that.” He looked to the battle in the sky.

  Storm ducked a heavy slash from Ronin, feeling strands of his hair lost forever, and Flashed away in a temporary retreat. Sheathing his katana, he steadied himself in the air as Ronin dashed head on, leaving a wake of wind. Storm took a deep breath and clicked out his blade with his thumb. Bright green flames of energy seeped forth from his body as if he were set aflame.

  “Lunar Rising!” he shouted, and his blade flashed with silver refulgence.

  Ronin’s eyes narrowed as the glare temporarily blinded him. A surge of elation rushed through Storm’s body and mind—it was only a matter of milliseconds before he would seize his victory. The two bells jingled, as if beckoning him to come.

  “Too bad you’re not working together,” Ronin said. “Might as well be fighting each other.” Then his grandfather vanished.

  Storm froze as his blade crashed with another, and his eyes grew dark when he realized it was Caim’s blade he had struck. He cursed Ronin’s escape and Caim’s interference. Pushing forward and laying his second hand on the bottom of the hilt, Storm sent Caim hurtling backwards through the air.

  “Interfere again and I’ll kill you myself.” Storm’s eyes were like ice, and a burst of energy erupted around his body before he vanished in the direction of Ronin, who stood idly in the distance with blade in hand, waiting, watching.

  Caim clenched his fists together as he came to a stop in the sky. “Damn you, Storm! This is not just your fight!”

  Caim vanished into the air speeding towards the two who had relocked in the dance of blades. Sparks flew as Caim approached, and with one last Flash forward, he lifted his Fallblade over his head for a descending slash.

  Caim’s attack was perfectly timed. Ronin had just initiated a counterattack on Storm, leaving the bell on his left side completely unguarded. Caim grinned—the bell was his. But at that same moment he felt the searing pain of a blade rip a deep gash up his hip and through his shoulder. Blood arced over his body like the crescent of a moon and the last thing he saw was a rising figure of black with burning eyes. Caim began to fall.

  “Storm?” He could barely speak as he fell through the air. Spinning down headfirst, his sight grew hazy, but there was no mistake—the blade that had struck him was his brother’s.

  Storm turned to face Ronin as Caim’s falling body disappeared beyond black clouds, racing towards a grave of fire and ice.

  “Storm!” roared Ronin. “You would strike down your own brother in hopes of surpassing your own limitations!? You know where he falls, and you know what lies beneath! His mind will be taken by them!” Ronin stared grimly at his grandson. “I always knew you were broken, Storm … but I never once thought it was of your heart.”

  Storm grinned wickedly. “Shows how much you know, old man.” Holding his katana out straight in a taunting motion, Storm spiked his aura enormously, releasing the cage of energy held within.

  Ronin grasped the hilt of his moonlit blade. “Your coldness I once thought could have been kindled with warmth, but I see now that it cannot. It would seem that the truth of your past haunts you more deeply than even you will admit, or understand. You have failed, Storm … and now you will fall.”

  “Don’t speak of my past as if you cared! You were the one who betrayed us, lied to us, and like I said …” Storm clenched his hilt tighter and whispered, “Caim and I might not even be brothers.”

  Ronin honed in on Storm’s words, carefully investigating their inner truth. Us? Thought Ronin with suspicion. Was there any part of Storm that still held fondness for his brother? Something felt off as flashes of Caim’s falling body came into his mind.

  “What’s wrong, old man? You’ve gone quiet.”

  Ronin’s eyes focused on Storm’s. “Your aura is far more unstable than normal, Storm.” He silently observed Storm’s every movement, looking and watching for any sign of his heart.

  Storm merely grinned, and raised his blade towards Ronin’s throat. “The world crumbles and melts beneath us,” he said. “The stars cast vengeance upo
n us, and you are merely concerned with my aura? Don’t make me laugh, old man. I will not be taken off guard. I don’t care how powerful you are!”

  Ronin’s eyes were grave as he spoke. “So be it, Storm. You, the broken child, will now learn the truth behind your weakness.” Ronin held his blade out before him, mirroring Storm, and released a torrent of dark green energy that twisted and turned around his blade like a serpent, bringing forth a sound so feral that the destruction of the world seemed to dim in comparison.

  Storm’s eyes flashed wide. What was this enormous power pouring forth from Ronin’s blade? He could suddenly taste fear and for a moment, doubts arose. One wrong move and I’m done. He gripped his hilt tighter. No, I will not die, he thought. Not here. Not now! Not when I’ve come this far!

  Ronin laughed maniacally. “Is that fear I sense from you, Storm? Do you sense it? My conviction? It is unlike yours. It is the reason you will now fall. It is the difference between one who truly bets their life, and one who cannot let go. Now, prepare yourself!” His last words sang like a deathly whisper.

  Ronin vanished. A tenth of a second later, Storm felt Ronin’s presence take form above him. With pure instinct, Storm parried the crushing blow with his blade. The power of Ronin’s attack pushed down hard into Storm’s guard, and he felt his body hurtling towards the rising ice. Fast!!! His thoughts screamed. The wind around him grew crazed, whipping up and around his body wilder and faster.

  Storm’s heart pounded in his chest. Nothing could be done. He was moving too fast to stop his fall. To his side a falling meteor raced him downwards. He would soon collide with the ground at full speed. Rings of broken air were left in his wake as he plummeted towards his end.

  Storm screamed his torment into the sky. “I will not lose to you old man! Not ever again!!!”

  And there he was again, descending, like a wraith of craving bloodlust, moving at speeds that Storm could no longer follow, and the grim reality hit him: The fall wouldn’t kill him. The ice would not become master of his grave, only the keeper. No, Ronin was more elegant than that. The fight started with blades, and would end with them. With gleeful eyes, Ronin’s auric pressure paralyzed Storm in mid-descent and he could no longer move. Storm felt the sharp of silver pierce his skin, coating itself in his own blood as the blade edged its way deep into the bone of his ribs. Blood spewed from Storm’s mouth and he felt a warm liquid seeping down his side.