Prologue to a Fantasy Work In Progress

It was the darkest time of night, just a few hours before sunrise, and a deathly quiet finally overcame the isolated village. Seventy-two hours of ceaseless terror left a devastation the could never be undone. Outside, not a single window was left unbroken, emptied barrels and boxes littered the streets along with what was once inside them, and the smoldering remains of randomly inflamed buildings were still glowing beneath the starless sky. Inside those structures left standing, store shelves had been violently emptied, their contents scattered across the floors. Safes were open as a result of both compliance and force, the money stolen out of spite with only a few rogue coins left behind. Every piece of handcrafted furniture in the cottages had been angrily overturned and every door stood ajar. Even the feather-stuffed pillows and straw-filled mattresses were sliced open and gutted as though something was expected to be concealed inside. Now this community was just a ruin, the makings of a ghost town.

The only consolation left was that screams no longer ripped through the crisp spring breeze, but that was because there was no one left to make them. Blood soaked the earth, drained from the bodies of men, women, and innocent children, lying a strewn in doorways, streets, alleyways, and wherever else they had fallen. Most had refused to yield to the invaders’ demands, but even those that cooperated were murdered, sentenced to rot among those citizens they betrayed the moment they were no longer useful. Only a fortunate few managed to escape the assault, having disappeared into the wilderness, never to be seen again. Now there was no one left to mourn, not a soul to make sound.

* * * * * * * * *

The Ashen Assembly made its way through the dense, dewy western forest in the vast country of Xandresh. It was nearly sunrise and they were hours into their journey to the next town. The previous had been yet another failure, and The Ash, mounted upon his horse and leading the group, was burning with silent rage. It was not there either.

We’ve just thrown away three more days insufficiently searching, thought The Ash, and those unruly villagers certainly didn’t make it any easier! It seems the term “compliance” was not in most of those people’s vocabulary. In fact, The Assembly was “forced” to cause fare more destruction than they had in any other community before to simply get the job done. This pointless looting must go on no longer! We need to be far more focused, work faster and more productively than ever if we have a chance at finding It before the Intrepid Faction--or worse, the “rightful” heir.

It was in the far western section of the country, the prophecy burned into The Ash’s mind was clear on that much. The Ash knew power would be his the moment It was in his grasp and the sheer greed that drove him was getting more potent every day. The Ashen Assembly would take no breaks and make no stops on the two-day trip to the upcoming village. There would be no useless squandering this time. This village would be ransacked in one day.