Chapter Eighteen

  Those who Stalk the Dark

  Mythis had been a quiet city during the plight of winter. Rumors spread among those unlucky enough to have been in the middle of the crowd for what should have been a great celebration of tradition. The horror of the Sun Blood killed before their eyes. The loss of mankind's tie to the goddesses and the bringers of the blessing spring would give them when this horrible blight was over. Hope, much like grain and fire, was in rare supply in mythis since that horrible turning.

  Then the men in black armor arrived. A group of killers over three dozen strong, wearing black leather armor with the symbol of Gailech branded across their chests. At the head of the group was a mighty black steed who upon sat the Prince of Night. At the entrance to the city, the prince dismounted and approached the city guards as people watched from their homes with lumps in their throats and hearts skipping over themselves.

  “Fear not, the turning approaches,” Edmund said to the guards, holding his hand up and trying to calm them. “The King of Night has passed in this horrible winter, I reign as your king now, and the King of Night comes with news of a new world on the horizon, a glorious new world, ready the townspeople to gather, let them know they are safe in the hands of the night’s ruler,” Edmund said, voice calm and collected, he was far from a madman shouting order and demand. He was a King who would oversee the turning of seasons as his ancestors had done for generations. The only thing different was that instead of turning the world back to the lying Goddesses, this would be a final turning, the hand of this world given to those who were worthy of it.

  Many in Mythis were relieved, the Prince of Night arrived at the center of the land for the next great turning, and that winter had only been a few months, soon a turning overseen by the royal family whose honor and oath was to see them to this day. Truly this must be a blessing. But the movements of men in black going through the town started to slightly dull their hopes. Those who stalked the dark began to patrol the city, dousing fires, and taking cuts off the shrinking grain supply for themselves. A due tax to the men who would allegedly be protecting them in place of the Hunters they hadn’t seen for a season. The Prince of Night’s law was not declared, it was simply enacted.

  When they doused fire hearths and took grain from hungry people, the Dark Stalkers told the fearful people to gather the words of the Goddesses, the testaments, prayer papers, and sigils of the liars and bring them to the center of the city. Right there on that same stage where the Sun blood was culled, another great gathering of lies was made just as it was in the dark capital of Kal-Dovean. It was doused in a mix of fire giver tonic and other Dark Stalker brewed potions, lit ablaze by flint and a steel dagger. The Dark Stalkers put torches to the great fire and walked through the city. They lit every torch, hearth, oven, and fire pit, lit them with the burning words of Goddesses that someday soon would be forgotten in the new world their Prince of Night saw to build.

  Edmund Gailech stood before the fire, and the Dark Stalkers were nearly dragging people to the center of the city to hear the words of their ruler, “You have seen winter,” Edmund announced, “Winter is deadly, winter kills, yet you all still live, you are a testament to the new world we can build, together,” he said.

  “The Sun Blood is dead, not a drop of it remains, the Goddesses have seen fit to release us from the enslavement to my cousins, you will never again be ruled in the sun, instead you will be free in the dark,” Edmund stood tall, bearing down on the captive audience. “There have been many rumors this winter, of acts one would think so horrible, so disturbed, unhinged, and unforgivable, these rumors are true,” then in a great voice he declared, “I killed the Sun Blood,”

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  Those in the crowd, stunned, scared, and solemn, all looked at each other, trying to make some sense of what their ruler was talking about.

  “I freed us from the rule of Deity, our whole lives we have gone to knee and begged them every winter, please bless, please forgive us, the time for asking forgiveness is over. Every spring since the first winter has just been a cruel joke, a tease, a bowl of gruel given to a slave to keep them obediant, no more,” he said again, “No more,” Edmund took a deep breath, and looked over the people he intended to rule with a fair and steel clasped hand, “Every spring since I was a boy, I did not fear the winter, I welcomed it, for a scant season we, we men, got to live in a world we had to build for ourselves, I take pride in my family’s ownership of this vicious time,” Edmund pounded his chest, “This is our world now, only man, no Goddess to tease us with a warmth she can’t wait to take away again, no more will those liars continue to drag worship out of us, make us go through their damn rituals,” The people were stunned, speechless, just watching a man they thought mad continue his rant, “There was a time when my eyes were closed much like most of yours when I would look to the goddesses, pray to them even. I would ask them why they have to make us suffer so,” Edmund closed his eyes and thought of his mother, and his mother’s last words, Be strong, “I’ve tried talking to the Goddesses, and I’ve heard nothing, so I decided to pray to winter, and winter spoke back,” he said, looking down at his hand and the bandaged gash on his palm. “Winter has told me that the time for heroes is over, winter has told me the time for worship is over, in this season you foolishly turn to the Winter Hunters, the Goddesses' last arm in this world, your hunters are dead, and yet your gods are silent, ask yourself, where have they been?” Edmund asked, looking around the crowd for an answer. “Nowhere, they’re gone, they’ve been culled by the cold it seems,” Edmund shook his head, “Don’t look to the spring, don’t look for a sunrise on the horizon, it's not coming, this longest of winters has been approaching for a long while, it was only a matter of time before the Goddesses that you put so much useless love and devotion to finally abandon us. I say, we turn our backs on them before they turn themselves away from us, only man should control man’s destiny, not these impotent, useless, cruel, and teasing deities that would have us sooner burn the last bits of grain we own in their honor before eating it ourselves,” Edmund clenched his bandaged fist, “I killed the Winter Hunters, I had to, they gave you hope, and stood in the way of our real hope, our hope to have a world we control, we rule, fear life without goddess no longer. Because now, this is life without Goddess, you have no one but yourselves to rely on, you are in debt to no one, goddess or hunter, this starts a new age for our land, this one cruel patch of earth the Goddesses made to try to keep us in their domain. I have spoken with great builders, as the first act in the winter without end, I will build an even mightier ship than the Never Ending, we will sail from this land, this prison, and we will find a new world, a world where man need only rely on himself, that is the dream I offer you. Work with your hands, and craft your own destiny, or keep them clasped praying for a spring you will never see,” the Prince of Night had made his declaration, and the people were too stunned and defeated by winter to even think they could rise up against those who stalked the dark. “The time for heroes is over, heroes fight for a light that will never come. There is no light left to fight for, we are the steel in the night against the endless winter and when Man is in his darkest hour,” Edmund took a deep breath, his voice holding command over his captive audience, “They must turn to those who stalk the dark.”