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[part of the Main 'Endymia' storyline, not 'Fiore's Beginnings', as has been previously posted.]
Comment's, Critique, proof readers, all welcomed. Just be aware that this is written in English (UK) and not (US).
Enjoy, it has, unfortunately, been a while.
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Prologue
Time, how did it begin?
It is one of those questions which have baffled humans since our ancestors first begun to think, and yet, after many millennia, the answer has never been explained in its entirety. The explosion of nothingness, the existence of an all-powerful being; all we know of are theories, stories which tell of how the universe might possibly have come to be. But we can never agree on which is ‘right’, we try to eradicate those who oppose our beliefs to make ours look more superior. However, as long as humans live, there will be no ‘right’ answer to the question, as only the first race knows of who or what created them, only the first race can say they’ve seen it all and only the last remaining member of the Nazaratti tribe, the first race, holds the power of the Gods himself. He is King Endymion, solitary and secretive; his memories are that of the universe and he has never told a soul of how he came to be, and probably never will.
The Nazaratti Tribe was created by The Conscience, the first ‘life’ created by the chemical reactions following the beginning of time. The Conscience wished to spread its life as would all that lived after it, and by doing so, the Nazaratti Tribe were given the power of The Conscience as well. This power was never fully experimented with, yet the Nazaratti’s inability to breed compelled them to create more life, and by filling the ever expanding universe with this, they were rewarded. The Conscience gave the Nazaratti the ability to live for twice after death. However, to continue into the second and third life, the Nazaratti in question must have given something substantial to the progress of the universe. Should they not, they would simply disappear from existence when they died. The Nazaratti lived for an exceptionally long time as it was; their planet gave off a strange aura which appeared to slow down time. Nevertheless, the Nazaratti had an exceptionally long lifetime, many excelling 4000 years, and so could only really die by being killed. But what would kill them? Each other? No, they were loyal to each other, stubborn and proud, but very loyal. The Nazaratti created many creatures to fill the universe with, including the humans, but perhaps their greatest mistake was when they created the Shadowarl, dark matter gone wrong. After realising these creatures were evil beyond comprehension, they put them in the small ‘holes’ in the universe, expecting them to just go away and not bother them ever again.
It was pure ignorance on the Nazaratti’s behalf and they paid dearly for it, as their population were hunted in cold blood by hordes of the Shadowarl, led by the fearsome beast Mek. One by one, the Nazaratti were devoured, transformed into Shadowarl Minions and forced to prey on their brothers and sisters. It was not until a Prodigy Nazaratti, Endymion, defeated the Warlord Mek in a cataclysmic battle that the Shadowarl Armies left. The Planet was then in ruins and was to be rebuilt in the name of Endymion, by the pitiful number of Nazaratti which survived the Shadow War. It was not long after that, that the Nazaratti eventually realised The Conscience was the first life, it’s purpose was to spread and was never in a position to control or guide anyone or anything to safety. Knowing this, the Nazaratti developed a way of life which no longer relied on The Conscience, and it’s true nature was lost when Endymion’s first life ended when he turned 5000 years of age, the restriction placed on the Nazaratti at birth.
The Nazaratti eventually died out, and it was not until many millennia later that a Carthaginian Human named Unin stumbled across an ancient artefact linking the Planet Earth and Endymia. It was later discovered these were used to spread life around the universe by the Nazaratti. The artefact, named the Endymia Orb, enabled the Carthaginians to visit Endymia for whatever reason they desired. The artefact and the Planet itself were only known about by a group of ten people, who, bar one who mysteriously vanished, named themselves The Senate, took control of Carthage and taught their abilities to those who could pay. However, this magic corrupted some of this group, and events which followed led to one of them giving Endymion his second life.
Endymion’s presence on Earth was a short one, he created and destroyed many things for the greater good, and offered salvation to the survivors of the Carthaginian’s Punic Wars by allowing them to live on Endymia. He now sits silently at the top of a tower in his castle, with an obsidian dagger in one hand and a glass crystal in the other. He has been there with one thing on his mind for the past 4000 years; a man named Fiore Arreth. This man, for reasons unknown to all but Endymion and his personal staff, resides in the Tower of Fear, an almost unknown prison on Endymia where criminals and enemies of the planet are kept asleep in tubes, floating in nutrient-filled water and never to see the light of day again…
… Or until they wake up, at least…
His dreams would not stop. Those demonic flashbacks, the lost memories and images came to him like a plague, reminding him that he had not always been in this metal cage, suspended like a giant, sleeping sponge. He wanted to open his eyes so much. They were forced shut by the chemicals in the water surrounding him, burning images into his mind. He could see the face of his indistinguishable captor, smirking, cackling, pointing a large finger towards him, and before long that unforgettable blue haze engulfed his body, suffocating him, once again. The dream repeated itself over and over and each time it did, he wept. Why him? What did he do? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember much at all anymore, he had been here for so long. For what seemed like centuries, Fiore had been trapped in his prison and he knew of nothing beyond it. He may as well have become blind, as his eyes would not open. He may as well have become mute, as his mouth was covered by a facemask which fed oxygen into his body. The only sounds he could hear around him were the occasional air bubbles rushing from his mouth to the surface and the feint sound of dropping sand in what he imagined as an hourglass in the distance. Every now and then, he may have heard a scratch, or a rustle from around him, he became excited at the thought of someone finding him, but became depressed after he realised he had imagined it. He was living a horrific existence, and only wanted to die.
He would dream a lot; about memories of the events which led to his capture, other times he would maybe dream about happy memories, although these were far and in-between. Nightmares were common as well, dreams about strange, cannibalistic monsters feeding in fields of dead, rancid corpses, which, when noticing Fiore standing, watching them, chased him through these fields until he woke up, screaming in pain, his skin searing as a fresh batch of nutrients forced their way into his veins and around his body. It happened daily, like clockwork, he had learned to dread it. He liked to imagine, during the calmer hours of his miserable life, what the outside looked like, whether or not he was still in the dusty, sandy streets of Carthage, and whether anyone knew he was here. He was convinced that although he was in this cell, suffering, that he was not alone, that someone else was here watching him. He could sometimes hear feint whispers. Why? He did not know, but it scared him.
Tap… tap…
Scratch… …tap… tap…
What was that? He slowed his breathing, determined that this time he would hear it again. Had someone found him? Was he going to be free, finally? He imagined being able to open his eyes shortly, to see his father standing there, wielding the sword given to him by Queen Dido, dripping with the blood of his captor. But, a few moments passed and his mood fell. He had imagined it, again. He thought he would have gotten used to this by now, but no. Every time something happened, or every time he thought something had, he got his hopes up, he became excited. But minutes afterwards he always returned to his original, hopeless state of mind.
‘…Brotherrrr…
Wake up brotherrrr…’
The chilling, unnatural voice sent shivers down Fiore’s back, he did not know whether it was a real voice or if he was just crazy, but it spoke to him every couple of days.
‘What do you want? Leave me alone.’
‘…I can’t do that, brotherrrr…’
‘Why?’
‘…We have guests, this evening…’
Fiore heard footsteps for the first time in what seemed like forever, along with the sound of three or four grown men speaking to each other, though he could not hear what they were saying as they were a little far away.
‘They’re going to kill us… brother.’ The voice had turned cold and dark, more serious now rather than playful as it had been before, ‘Do you want to die?’
‘…I don’t care, Voice.’
‘Do you want to be free…?’
‘Y-yes…’
‘Then wake up, Fiore.’
‘I’ve tried before Voice, I can’t.’
‘…Just do it!!’
He tried to open his eyes, but they were glued shut. As long as he was in this water, he would be unable to wake up. He had a way of changing this, however. Just because he was in this prison, did not mean he couldn’t influence things outside of it, should they get close enough. He was not sure how, but his magical abilities had increased significantly while in this prison. It could have been down to whatever was in the liquid surrounding him, or he could have just picked it up naturally. Either way, he wasn’t bothered right now; the voices of the men he had heard earlier had gotten louder, more clearer, and he could now make out exactly what they were saying.
“This is absolutely stunning; one moment, we’re in a cave looking at Carthaginian artefacts, now we’re in a mechanical fortress holding technology we’ve never been able to comprehend before!” An excited, yet aged, male voice spoke first. He had obviously been walking fast as he seemed out of breath. It was not long before another younger voice spoke.
“Washington is going to be ecstatic, imagine the military possibilities! I can only hope our recording equipment is picking this up correctly; there’s a lot of static being generated by a disturbance up ahead.”
“We should find out what it is then, if it’s dangerous, we can use this sphere to get back to where we came from and ask for help.”
The men’s footsteps were louder than ever before, he could imagine the men standing just 10 feet in front of him! But they had stopped, had they been part of his imagination? No, they couldn’t have been, he had no idea what they were talking about. Everything else he had imagined he had known what he had heard, however, ‘Washington’, whatever it may be, was not in his vocabulary.
“Look at this, Gerald.” The younger man’s voice spoke, “It’s a symbol of some sort, followed by a handful of Phoenician text. What does it say?”
“Take a photograph of it, and I’ll translate it later. First though, we’ve got to find a way to open this door.”
Click!
The younger man had stood on a switch, making the symbol in front of him glow bright green. “I think I did something… What if it’s a trap?”
“You’re thinking of pyramids, boy, and half of the time they don’t have traps in them either. You may have just opened the door. Amazing though, don’t you think? There’s no electricity in this place at all, I just don’t understand it.”
The door in front of them opened, slowly, but they did not enter. They stood there, in their brown explorer hats, brown uniform and glasses with their mouth open wide, trembling in both bewilderment and excitement, maybe in fear. The old, short and moustached old man broke the moments silence with a shaky whisper;
“It’s a human…”
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Last edited by Anubis on October 25th, 2007, 12:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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