WebNovels

Shadow of the Flame

SwordStoneGuy
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
When a boy life is ruined he has to become an unlikely hero when his whole life is destroyed. He must choose between becoming a Mage to get revenge for himself or become an Assassin, like the man who saved him, to save others like himself and possibly the future.
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Chapter 1 - Ember light

Rainless thunder broke out from the heavens, shaking everything beneath like an angry god. The boy below, however didn't notice it, his own heartbeat loud in his ears, as he rushed through the smoke and fires of the village. On passing the remains of his friends house, he tried to call out to him but choked on the fumes. Spluttering, he ran around it, giving the smog a wide berth as he tried to see into the house through the windows. Instantly he regretted it; there on the floor inside he could see his limp hand, still holding the charred remains of half eaten fruit. A hideous sound escaped him, as he unknowingly dropped the ball he had held in his hand, since retrieving it from the field to the east of the village, where they'd been playing barely an hour ago. 

But, there was no time to mourn. Soft fluttering sounds of phantom cloaks sweeping over the bodies of their owners pierced the boys preoccupied mourning, shattering the illusion of safety he'd taken for granted seeing the destruction around him. He swung around wildly, unable to see them...and yet he could hear them.

Without a second thought, he bolted for his home, suddenly aware that his own family were still to arrive from the town. That they might still be alive. His feet stomped alternately on burning logs and sooty cobblestone and occasionally a body, though he never looked down to identify them. A few he recognized without needing to. He passed the fountain that marked the village's centre within a few minutes. It was overflowing; people had jumped in to escape the fire, and now the water, thick and black with soot flowed over them, onto the streets. His feet wanted to stop, his throat hoarse and dry from the running and smog. He kept running.

A moment later he saw his own house. It stood there, charred and unrecognizable. He froze suddenly, seeing them beyond the corner. Luminous beings, ghostly light falling from the folds of their large cloaks, light green and sometimes blue, hooded at the face, with a shadow for a face. One, then another, then more- He gulped and turned, and almost yelled in shock seeing the hoard of them, flowing out of the ruins, houses, roads all around...

Then he he saw them and did yell but not in fright, but shock. Ghosts or phantoms did not wear their own clothes unless viewed by eyes that had known them in life. In horror, he saw the ghostly pale frock flowing unnaturally around the silhouette of his little sister, whose face now looked like a dream you couldn't remember after waking. Behind them, his parents... he was too late. It is said that the ability to recognize a ghost, is a small comfort- to be in the company of known, sometimes loved ones when and before you die. He didn't recognize the others he knew, the boy whose ball he'd never returned, the other children he played with, their parents and a few elders.

He fell to his knees, as all around him the crowd grew, the soft sounds of their cloaks growing maddeningly louder and at silencing all noise from around them at the same time. His vision blurred and sharpened as tears grew and fell from his eyes. 

So it was and wasn't a surprise when the cloaked figure zipped suddenly around, the blurred yellow line of his fiery sword, smiting the apparitions closing in on their prey into mere smokey forms that evaporated away... devoid of any memories, of any longing they had for life or the ones they'd known in their time... of any longing one may have to take their child with them, knowing they are going on to peace and paradise, away from the dangers of life.

It was over before the ghosts or the boy realised it had begun. Orangish-red lines still burned into his vision, the boy rubbed away his tears, to see a gloved, hand held out for him. He looked up to see another cloaked figure but this one had a solid, human face, with eyes glinting through the shadows of it's hood, and a mask covering it's mouth.