Prologue

Prologue

The rain came in hard and fast, instantly soaking anything it came in contact with, and lowering visibility for miles. An ancient castle loomed in the distance, built in the ages long before human civilisation, when a race of superhuman beings ruled the earth. They were long gone now, sealed away by the very humans whom they had enslaved. Now, though, the castle was being approached by a man. He seemed to be alone, yet the shadows around him continually separated and reformed, shifting and adapting to the environment, and making it hard to distinguish a clear view. The man reached the large iron gate. A small plate was slid back by a guard, but before he could say anything, the man drew back his hand, and punched the door. It splintered inwards in a large explosion. The guard didn't even get to scream as his body was reduced to a bloody mess. The man strode through the gaping doorway and the shadows reached out and shattered the lights. The darkness poured into him, forming a dark cocoon, then detached from his body and sunk into the ground. Everywhere a shadow hit, the ground opened up and out crawled a dirty, deformed creature. Parts of ancient bone could be seen through their dark armour, and oozing black blood dripped off them. The man pointed, and they ran into the castle.

The guard force, hundreds of the best sorcerers from around the world, was cut down in minutes. The man strode through the carnage until he reached the inner gate. A sorcerer walked out from it, holding a sword in one hand and a fireball in the other. He bowed, then jumped off the ground with unnatural grace and speed. In mid-air he threw the fireball at the man, who easily avoided it with a sidestep. The sorcerer twirled in the air and disappeared, instantly re-appearing next to the man, the sword lacerating his stomach. The man with the shadows ignored it and simply reached out, grasping the man's head in his hand. Shadows gathered around his body, then grew sharp and impaled him in over a hundred places, and tore him apart. The man pulled the sword from his stomach, and the wound closed over instantly. He threw the sword away and continued through the ancient castle, resisting the tantalizing smell of fresh blood. Finally, he reached a huge pit, with a floating orb in the centre. He reached out with his shadows and pulled it towards him. The orb was deep black, with darkness swirling and wrapping around it. He touched it and it melted, flowing easily into his skin and being absorbed by his body. This man was named Airon Black, and he had just become the most powerful man on this earth.

Over the next hundred years, Airon worked in secret, gathering some of the most powerful and evil sorcerers from around the world, and forming them into a group that would became known as Nox Aeterna. Using the power that he had gained that night at the castle, Airon found that he was immortal, and had extreme power over the dark art of Necromancy. Finally, his army reached enough numbers, and Airon Black launched an assault that would change the world forever. Sweeping over the earth, Nox Aeterna conquered city after city, country after country until a great warrior known as Ashari the Light rallied the magic users of the world together into an army of light. With her stood 6 of the most powerful mages in the world, known as the Guardians. Each Guardian was a master in their chosen elements; Light, Air, Earth, Fire, Water and Darkness. But even with the combined power of all the Guardians and Ashari, Airon was an unstoppable enemy. After ten years of war, a woman emerged from a village that Airon and his forces had attacked. Barely living, she was the only survivor of the entire town. She was brought before Ashari, and it was her dying words that would change the course of the war.

The words she spoke were slow and cautious, and could hardly be heard over her coarse breathing.

The seven will rise,
A boy the last,

His love of darkness,
His friend of air.

The other five will follow after,
Earth and Water and Light and Fire.
Three hundred years will past,
Before the seven come to earth,

And sacrifice must be made,
To hide the six in earthen graves.

It was these words, spoken only to Ashari, that seemed to end the terrible war. Casting out all magic users of the world, she thought that to be her sacrifice. Binding them to her mighty sword; Zenith, she thought none could ever escape, and the world would be at peace through her deed. But she was wrong.

His power was too strong, and Airon escaped. Tearing a hole through the fabric of the Hidden Realm, as it had been named, Airon crossed the gap and returned to earth. Alone, he sought to destroy the 7 people who had slowed his terrible crusade, but found only Ashari Of Light, who made the final sacrifice, taking her own life and hiding each of the 6 Guardians deep underground, to be found only by their descendants, three hundred years later...