Unseen

The Prophecy

Do not be afraid. I have not abandoned you. A time will come when darkness can no longer rule. Look for a diamond glowing in the north, though it falls it will not fail, for from its ashes two seekers will arise. Through earth, water, wind and fire I will be found. Even the smallest flame can shine in the black of night and the darkness cannot extinguish it. Even the smallest flame can ignite a fire that will burn with fury from one generation to the next.

1

The prophecy was a promise long forgotten. After so many years with no sign of Oron’s return, people began to lose faith in the God of Light. Darkness became an ominous presence and the innocents of the world began to believe that it was only a matter of time before the earth was once again smothered by the evil force.

But now a star has fallen. A journey has begun. And an ember of hope will continue to burn, as long as the seekers can finish their quest.

They weren’t going to make it.

Jethro gazed up the whitewashed trail in front of him. He squinted against the flurry of snowflakes assaulting him from every angle. Fatigue tugged at his muscles. He wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep. He gazed back down the steep slope behind him. Mya and Adamar struggled to climb the trail. Their little bodies were wrapped up against the cold, but he didn’t think any amount of fur would keep the bone-chilling wind at bay.

Mya slipped. Adamar caught her arm, just before her face landed in the snow. Hauling her back to her feet, he brushed off her front and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him for a moment and smiled. His dimples appeared.

Jethro shook his head.

They had found the earth element, Adamar, on the hot valley floor of the Canyon Lands. His little black body had been dressed in nothing more than a pair of leather trousers. Mya had been discovered in a sweltering rain forest, her only attire a woven flax dress. Neither of them had contended with temperatures this low before, yet they managed to keep smiling, placing one faithful foot in front of the other.

These two element children were beyond compare.

Princess Kyla strode up behind them, pulling her horse with much effort. Neema had a blanket secured under her saddle, but the horse was grappling with the cold at every turn. Kyla’s soft encouragements could only go so far. Right now she was heaving on Neema’s reins.

Come on!

Kyla’s voice broke through the blizzard. He heard the high pitch and recognised the fear.

Stay here, Hava. I’ll be back in a minute. He patted his horse and cautiously descended the path. Wait with the horse, he told the children on his way past. They nodded and continued up the hill.

Neema, please! I know you’re cold and you’re scared, but I need you to keep moving. Kyla’s voice wobbled. She laid her forehead against Neema’s nose and sniffed.

Jethro slid to a stop beside her.

You okay?

She closed her eyes at his quiet words. "I’m frozen to the very centre of my being. My horse won’t move without me dragging her and it has been snowing forever."

Jethro frowned and stepped towards her. Squeezing her shoulder, he tried to think of something to say that would bolster her spirits, but he was battling all the same demons. Could he say the right thing and actually sound like he meant it?

Kyla opened her eyes and looked up the hill. He followed her gaze and saw the children huddled against Hava. Their faces were buried in the horse’s neck as snow piled around their feet.

We’re all going to freeze to death. How can their little bodies last in this cold?

Jethro shrugged. They’re element children. Do you think they’re even capable of dying?

Oron had raised them from the dead over 700 years ago. The ancient children had not aged a day since they'd been resurrected.

Maybe not. Kyla pressed her lips together. But we are.

Her teeth began to chatter and a shiver raced down her back. She hunched her shoulders and released a quivering breath. The white puffs from her mouth wafted on the air and were swallowed by the snow.

Each flake seemed to be filled with another doubt, another sign of hopelessness. He noticed his boots being buried by the white assassin. Pulling one free, he shook the flakes off and sniffed.

Whether he meant it or not, he had to say something. They couldn’t give up now. They’d come too far. If they were going to die, it was not going to be here.

Clearing his throat, he leaned towards Kyla. Her hair tickled his nose as he whispered in her ear. You were nearly killed by a river snake and drowned by a waterfall. I nearly died from dragonfly bites. And then you took on an army of men. We’re still standing, right? We’ve survived it all.

Her face turned into him so their cheeks were touching. He relished the softness of her icy skin. Her cold breath skittering over his patchy stubble spurred him on.

A little snowstorm is not going to kill us now. We’re going to make it over the pass to Doran and we’re going to find the wind element.

He pulled away to get a proper look at her face.

"We are going to survive this, Kyla."

A smile touched the corner of her mouth, but didn’t lift it for long.

We won’t if we stay out in this storm.

I agree. He sighed. Without a word, he took Neema’s reins from Kyla’s hand. Come on, girl. Let’s get you up this hill.

Neema grunted and shook her head, but after a couple of strong tugs, she followed after Jethro.

They climbed for another hour, slipping and sliding the further they ascended. Jethro kept a keen eye out for any type of shelter, but the whiteout was making it impossible to see.

Rounding the next corner, he noticed an overhang of rock. He pushed towards it, feeling his thighs burn as he waded through the thick snow.

He let go of the horse's reins and crouched beneath the overhang. It was a small space and created a tunnel for the wind to whip through, but maybe if they hung some blankets they could create some kind of barrier. The horses would have to stay outside; there was no room for them. Would they survive the cold?

We can’t fit in there, Kyla yelled from behind him. It’s too cold with the wind coming through. We may as well just stand out here and meet our fate.

No! She wasn’t allowed to sink back into this. He couldn’t carry both her doubts and his. At this point in time, he didn’t feel strong enough.

With a sharp glare, he scrambled out from the space. He wanted to yell back at her but clenched his jaw and strove to keep his voice quiet.

This is the best we’ve got. We can’t keep walking like this. Our bodies can’t take much more.

You don’t think I know that?

Well, what do you propose we do?

I don’t know! Kyla threw her hands in the air.

Jethro looked back at the small overhang and then up the steep pass. His exposed skin was being battered by the wind, and each snowflake now felt like a shard of glass. He licked his cracked lips and tasted blood.

This is hopeless. Kyla’s voice broke.

He dropped his head and fought off a sudden bout of tears. They burned his eyes.

It’s not hopeless. Mya’s little hand pulled on his.

He looked down at the nine-year-old and forced a smile.

There is shelter ahead. Oron told me. We just have to keep going. It’s only a little further.

Glancing at Kyla, he noted her tormented expression. She had been struggling to accept that Mya could hear from the God of Light himself. His voice spoke to her — soft whispers for her ears alone. At least that’s what she said.

Kyla bit her lips together and turned away. Jethro squeezed the young girl’s hand and nodded. Mya, the water element, had been dwelling on this earth for 709 years. He couldn’t ignore the fact that she was one of the only people alive to have actually spent time with Oron when he came to the earth as a man. She had witnessed the Great War. If they were going to take a risk on anyone, then she was probably a safe bet.

Okay, he murmured. Let’s keep going.

Kyla sighed and crossed her arms, but they didn’t stay that way for long. Adamar tugged her hand free. Jethro walked past them with Mya and followed her lead. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that the dark little boy from the Canyon Lands was still clutching Kyla’s hand tight.

In spite of the mounting odds, Jethro couldn’t ignore the quiet sense within that told him to trust the prophecy. The two children seemed to have no problem doing it. Kyla on the other hand...her faith was like chaff in the wind. If they had to endure much more, she'd give up on this quest. He wished he could believe this snowstorm was their last major hurdle, but somehow he knew that even if they survived this, they still had a very long way to go. Ashan’s army attacking them in the Forest of Gesham proved that the dark forces knew of this quest…and they would do anything in their power to make sure the light never rose again.

2

Safeer flicked back his plush robe and dismounted the stallion. His shiny boots sunk into the soft earth and he grimaced. He loathed the Black Forest and avoided it whenever possible, but in this matter he had no choice. Ashan had commanded it and he had to obey.

Pulling off his leather gloves, he tried to ignore the wet blackness seeping into his pores. He could almost fool himself into thinking it was dusk as opposed to noon. The sun had never been welcome in this part of the woods.

Slapping at his neck, Safeer ducked away from the whine of mosquitos and hurried towards the gnarled oak tree. A mottled toad croaked at his feet and jumped away before becoming foot fodder. The mouldy roots at the base of the tree slithered out of the ground like entangled snakes. Safeer slipped on the damp surface but caught himself from stumbling in complete humiliation. He checked to make sure no one was watching. Coming to a stop in front of the ancient tree, he made sure his feet were solidly grounded this time.

He cleared his throat, adjusted his shoulders and lifted his chin. He would show no fear. Fear was a weakness he despised in men, and he was not just any man. He was the ambassador of Mezrah, the right-hand man of King Ashan — the greatest ruler this world had ever known…aside from Kohlac, the ancient Lord of Darkness. Although Safeer would never admit to thinking this.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his long dagger, pulling it free and driving it through a chink in the tree’s exterior. The dagger squelched as it slid through the black goo inside. He would have to make sure his weapon was scrubbed after this. Or better yet, he’d demand a new one.

He resisted the urge to nibble on his lip as he waited. How this form of summoning worked, he was not sure, but he despised the mystery of it. His impatience mushroomed quickly. Why couldn’t these warlocks simply use a door like everybody else? Fuming, he grabbed his dagger to yank it free.

A white face appeared beside him.

Safeer drew in a quick breath, swallowing back his gasp. He knew he should extend his hand in greeting, but he had never liked touching these men. His hand remained on the hilt of his dagger as he forced a pleasant smile.

Nafeez. Safeer nodded at the skeletal albino man, shrinking away from the thick snake coiled around Nafeez’s chicken neck. There was a faint hiss as the snake’s tongue darted towards Safeer’s ungloved hand. The ambassador’s nostrils flared, but he managed to maintain his composure.

Nafeez chuckled and stroked the snake’s head with his thumb.

Lord Safeer, what an honour. The man’s husky voice dripped with sarcasm.

Safeer gave him a dirty look and pulled his weapon from the tree. He was surprised to find the blade completely clean. His stomach swirled with unease. Although he was in love with someone who studied the dark arts, it didn’t make him fond of the craft.

He sheathed his weapon and forced himself to look into eyes so pale they were nearly transparent.

King Ashan requires your help.

Nafeez looked down at his long nails and ran his thumb over their sharp edges. And what does King Ashan want the Elite to do?

Kill.

A slow smile eased its way over the man’s pale lips. Safeer caught a flash of yellow, crooked teeth and grimaced.

With a malignant flash in his eye, Nafeez moved aside and stretched his arm to the left. Follow me.

They moved in silence, through a narrow path of towering trees that seemed to grow closer together with each step. Safeer breathed in and turned sideways as the path became non-existent. He felt like a fool, being squashed by the world around him, but suddenly he was through the narrow gap and standing on a dark, earthy platform. A single torch protruded from a tree to his left, casting a faint glow on the stairwell he was to descend. He glanced above him like he always did, amazed at how the tightly knit trees had entwined themselves around each other to create a canopy of protection. The shadows stretched tall and ominous over the rutted walls, impersonating ghouls and demons. He looked away from their sinister shapes and focused on the snake man in front of him.

The stairs wound down into a deep cavern. Safeer placed his foot on the hard earth at the bottom, relieved to be standing in an area where he could finally see more than a yard in front of him. He felt something brush his leg and noticed a snake slithering over his boot. He grunted and kicked it away.

A hand appeared from nowhere, catching the reptile with a low chuckle. The snake hissed, exposing its fangs. Subdued by a stroke to the head, the snake coiled around the thick arm holding it.

Lord Safeer, a deep voice rang from the darkness. We do so love your visits. Stepping out of the shadows appeared a large man with skin the colour of burnt umber.

Bordor.

His bare muscles were hard and unyielding. Anyone stupid enough to run into them would probably be knocked unconscious. His face was decorated with black carvings that must have been painful to endure, but gave him a formidable countenance. Men in battle often faltered before attacking, giving him an edge he did not require. He moved with slow, calculated steps, stopping an inch from Safeer’s nose and peering down at him. The snake continued to slide up his arm until its head was resting on Bordor’s beefy shoulder. Safeer glanced at the darting tongue and scowled. He kept his look black as he gazed up at the tower of muscle in front of him.

Safeer was not used to feeling so small and hated the impact this group always had on him. He pulled his body as straight as it would go and brushed off his robe with a flick of his hand. You would not have to endure any visits if you would wear the ring Nikara made for you.

Bordor crossed his arms with a smirk. She is but a child in the dark arts. She has talent. Her magical rings work fine for communicating across the cities, I’m sure, but I am not ready to wear anything she has conjured. Besides, he smiled broadly, I quite like your discomfort. It is always so entertaining.

Safeer’s face smouldered, which only caused the hulking man to throw back his head and laugh.

So, you are here for a progress report, Lord Safeer?

That, and we have a job for you.

Bordor’s right eyebrow peaked. And what might that be?

Safeer looked behind him and noticed a group of motley men filling the corners of the room. Normally his confidence would have soared in this moment. He liked nothing better than an audience. But this lethal group of assassins preyed on his weaknesses. They were an intimidating bunch with markings on their faces, thick limbs and braided hair woven with pieces of leather and bone. Soulless eyes bored into him from around the room.

He turned, keeping his focus on Bordor and away from the curved weaponry that could inflict all manner of pain.

He knew his voice would shake if he spoke straight away, so he cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes.

A month ago a star landed, outside of Taramon.

The northern city? The man’s black eyes gleamed. Interesting.

A short while later, two seekers escaped the city and are now on a quest to find the four elements.

You speak of the prophecy, he spat.

It is a myth. Safeer raised his eyebrows.

Then why are you here?

"Because Ashan will not attack the northern city until he is sure that the crystal in Taramon Tower is not the diamond glowing in the north."

He has always feared that prophecy. Why do you revere such a weak king?

I would be cautious of what I chose to say. You do work for him, remember.

Only because he pays well. Bordor’s smile was slow and malicious as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

Safeer nodded, respecting the man’s reasoning. He would like you to find and eliminate these seekers. Once they are dead, he will march on the city and take it as his own.

Why have you waited until now to tell us about this? We could have tracked and killed them weeks ago.

We thought our troops would be enough, but they continue to evade us.

The expression wafting over Bordor’s face was enough to indicate exactly what he thought of Ashan’s troops.

Where are these seekers now?

According to my sources, they are crossing the mountain pass to Doran.

The ice city? Bordor scoffed. They will not last long in that frozen wasteland.

But they might. You are our assurance.

We will not cross into the ice desert. My men are not prepared for those conditions.

"Doran is an unguarded city that could easily be taken by men of your talent."

Bordor’s eyes flashed. Nothing about the Ice Palace or its frozen surroundings interests me.

Safeer locked angry eyes with the hulking man. It did not take long to conclude that this was a pointless battle. He knew it would be. Alright, fine. When they cross back over the pass, you are to finish them and take whatever treasures they may have found. I do not know what form the elements have taken, but Ashan wants them in Mezrah.

Bordor pulled in a slow breath and expelled it. And once we have done this?

The day we hear of their deaths is the day we march on Taramon. Safeer mirrored the man’s dark smile. How are things progressing here? He extracted a glass vial from beneath his shirt, lifting the leather strap over his head and holding it out to Nafeez.

The albino shuffled forward with a greedy look in his eye. Avoiding the man's grotesque nails, Safeer dropped the vial into his pale hands. Black liquid sloshed within the glass.

When did he give this to you? Nafeez licked his bottom lip.

Safeer turned away with a grimace. He bled himself this morning. It should be enough.

Nafeez wrapped his fingers around the vial of Ashan's blood and smirked at Bordor. I can start a fresh batch with this.

The large man nodded, his mouth turning up at the side. He turned to Safeer with a glimmer in his eye. The elixir is in the final stages of testing.

Safeer turned to follow Bordor's pointing finger. Two large men pushed their way into the centre of the room. They flexed their gargantuan muscles and emitted low growls. Their eyes were so inky black it looked as though their pupils and irises had blended into one. He noticed a red glowing pulse within their gaze, just like Ashan’s. Also like Ashan, the dark veins swelling on each limb ran with blood so dark it looked black. Safeer swallowed at their hideous appearance. If he was correct in his thinking, these two soldiers were once men of average size and strength. They now looked ready to take down ten men with a single swipe. They were the living embodiment of darkness. Just what Ashan had asked for.

Can they do everything we hoped? Safeer asked.

Bordor chuckled. And more.

A crooked smile spread over the ambassador's lips. The troops from Ravma have been given their marching orders. They should be here by the end of the month.

The elixir will be ready as soon as they arrive. It will take several days for the men to function. They’ll be out cold for the first four…and then the pain really begins. Bordor’s eyes glinted. They’ll also need to retrain their muscles after the transition. They should be battle ready within twelve days of taking the elixir.

Safeer shook his head. Ashan will not want to wait that long.

Bordor’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. Tell your king if he wants the results he requires, then he will wait until I say they are ready.

Much to his disgust, Safeer felt his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat. Unfortunately Bordor noticed this, and his snicker was like a fist in the face.

Safeer’s cheeks burned, but he managed to maintain a steady voice. I will pass on the message. I’m sure he will understand. They’re hardly needed to bring down the northern city.

Bordor’s eyebrow peaked into a sharp arch. What do you need them for then?

Safeer mentally kicked himself. It is not your concern.

Leaning back with a knowing smile, Bordor crossed his arms. He’s set his sights beyond the borderlands, hasn’t he? Trying to outdo Kohlac?

Safeer glanced at the floor and shrugged, striving for an aloof tone. Ashan is a king of great vision.

Yet he fears two young seekers. The mocking smile sweeping over Bordor’s