EQUINOX REQUIEM
CHAPTER ONE — THE END
A tall, overbearing figure stood in the distance, arms splayed as if to embrace the sky. For a heartbeat he held that pose, then smiled — a long, thin smile that tasted of threat.
"Uhn?!" came a shouted challenge.
Hundreds of masked silhouettes erupted across the plain, closing the distance like a tide. They formed a ring, blades and spears catching the light: swords, polearms, maces — an arsenal raised in unison. One figure, unmasked, stepped forward until he faced the tall man.
"So," the leader said, voice tight with triumph, "we meet again, Xaros of Fractured Void. You were not easy to track. Tonight, you meet your end."
Xaros laughed. It was a sound without mirth — a cut through the night. "Is that so?" he said. "It has only been a little while, Ren. You change so quickly. To think this is how you would greet me."
"What's so funny?" Ren demanded.
"Oh — nothing," Xaros said, and the small smile lingered.
"Keep laughing, Xaros," Ren said, now steady. "Tonight you will meet the devil in hell." He raised his hand. "Charge!"
The ring surged. Hundreds of bodies moved at once, weapons swinging in a brutal arc. As steel screamed toward Xaros, and just as it was about to hit him, he vanished into thin air.
"I knew you'd use that!" Ren hissed, and then screamed into the sky. "Snipers!"
A remote scope watched the battlefield from a point far enough to be safe and close enough to be fatal. The shooter's breath evened; the crosshair trembled as he concentrated. He could replay each motion in his head — the stance, the vanishes — and when he opened his eyes the battlefield snapped into focus. He squeezed.
Xaros reappeared only a short distance away. The sniper's shots arrived as though conjured: supersonic rounds spat into the earth where Xaros had stood, throwing showers of stone and dust. The rounds were unnatural — tracers of energy laced through lead — and they blew great pucks from the ground.
Xaros watched the craters with an amused tilt of his head. "It seems you were thoroughly prepared to kill me tonight," he said. "It's a pity to disappoint." He checked a watch strapped to his wrist. Three o'clock — sharp. "But I have somewhere to be."
The air shuddered. A black vortex tore open beneath him and yanked him into its center.
"You coward!" Ren bellowed. "Don't you dare run! Come back here, you—" His scream dissolved into the wind.
The masked host stilled, faces blank behind dark glass. "What now, boss?" someone panted. "We tracked him for weeks."
Ren's jaw set. "We will find him," he swore. "And I will kill him!!!."
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A young man slept on the bare sand of a desert, curled against the heat and the bite of wind. The sun had not yet found the place he lay; the sand around him held the cool blue of early morning. His rest was restless; sweat slicked his temples. He pushed himself upright and blinked against the day.
A vortex tore open the horizon and Xaros drifted through it, floating like a dark seed in vacuous air. Hale Wren went instantly on guard; he rose, palms open, sensing reflexively the air's change.
A flicker crawled across his skin and then suddenly, his whole body was swallowed in flame. The fire licked, wrapped, did not consume. Hale grunted, but he did not flinch.
"We finally meet, Hale Wren," Xaros said. "I have been busy. I left you to temper yourself in my Divine Flames. You should have felt their effect in the world. You've gained about a thousand pounds of raw physical strength by now. Am I right?"
Hale's breath came steady. The flames were fierce, feral with intention, yet they failed to make him drop to his knees. He watched the glare, let it pass through him. A thought as pale as frost brushed his mind: I can lift a car without breaking a sweat now.
Xaros smiled, pleased. "It seems my flames barely have an effect on you. Let's turn up the heat, shall we?"
The fire roared tenfold. Hale's muscles tightened, then settled. He did not fall.
"Who are you?" he spat. "What is this place? How do you know my name? What do you want with me?"
"Such curiosity!" Xaros crowed, as though delighted by the questions. "We will be mentor and disciple in the future, so introductions are in order. I am Xaros, God of Earth. This is Fractured Void. I offer power beyond human comprehension. Your enemies will fall like insects. You will be invincible."
Hale's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"
Xaros's voice slid behind him like cold silk. "There is none." Then, suddenly, he was there — the speed of it near impossible to follow.
"You shouldn't misunderstand me, Hale Wren." Xaros continued, hand resting on Hale's shoulder. "I groom talents. Some call it a hobby."
Hale sat very still and thought for a long, dangerous second. "I think I'll pass," he said at last.
"You'll reconsider," Xaros murmured as the vortex curled for him. "Soon enough."
The vortex drew Xaros away. Hale squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again he was in a different place — a narrow bed, wooden slats beneath him, the scratch of fabric at his cheek. A small clock glowed on the bedside table. Three o'clock — sharp.
He lay back, the desert memory already receding, and sleep took him.
— Chapter One End. —